1 & LM2ER.-N0TS 

and 9 heir 

GOLDEN QUEST 



8 AGNES MILLER. 8 















G P C 












































“WE CAME TO ASK YOU SOMETHING SPECIAL, MR. HORNSBY.”- 
“The Linger-Nots and Their Golden Quest” Page i6<> 









THE LINGER-NOTS 

and their 

GOLDEN QUEST 

OR 

The Log of the Ocean Monarch 


By AGNES MILLER 

Author of 

“The Linger-Nots and the Mystery House,” 
“The Linger-Nots and the Valley Feud,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY 






THE LINGER-NOTS SERIES 
By AGNES MILLER 
Cloth. 12mo. Frontispiece. 

THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE MYSTERY HOUSE 
Or, The Story of Nine Adventurous Girls 

THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE VALLEY FEUD 
Or, The Great West Point Chain 

THE LINGER-NOTS AND THEIR GOLDEN QUEST 
Or, The Log of the Ocean Monarch 

Other volumes in preparation 

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, NEW YORK 


K.7 

Nu 


Copyright, 1923, by 
Cupples & Leon Company 

The Lingeb-Nots and Theib Golden Quest 


Printed in U. 8. A . 


JilN 2 5 1323 

©C1A752527 








CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 


A Proverb and a Piddle . 


1 

The Charred Picture 


18 

Next Stop, Wall Street ! 


34 

The Tan Overcoat 


47 

Aline Jumps Off 


64 

Clipper-Cards 


76 

A Fateful Fete . 


87 

In Old Fair Valley . 


100 

The Pageant of the Seed 


118 

Deadlock 


134 

In the Log of the “ Ocean 

K 

O 

3 

i 



> > 


ARCH 


150 




CONTENTS 


XII. Why Gordon Carved an Acorn . 166 
XIII. Felicity's Name .... 182 


XIV. American Beauties 


. 196 




INTRODUCTION 

The Linger-Nots in the first volume, entitled 
i 1 The Linger-Nots and the Mystery House,” 
quite by accident, stumbled upon a baffling mys¬ 
tery, but, by persistent interest in seeing things 
come out right, succeeded in righting some 
otherwise disastrous wrongs. In the second 
volume, entitled “The Linger-Nots and the Val¬ 
ley Feud,” they found an unhappy quarrel that 
had caused devastating injury through three 
or four generations, and, by good management, 
healed all the old wounds. But in this volume, 
they have grown with experience, and they de¬ 
liberately set to work to unravel the mystery 
in a golden quest. It turns out to be a great 
moral lesson that has many rewards for right 
lives. 

The Linger-Not Club not only vindicates its 
usefulness in affording pastime of the right 


INTRODUCTION 


kind, but also, in directing attention to serious 
interests, whose reward is a career of service 
and happiness for all concerned. The members 
found that the bonds of friendship woven by 
their experience was worth all their work. 

The Publishers. 




THE LINGER-NOTS AND 
THEIR GOLDEN QUEST 


CHAPTER I 

A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 

T HE light from two rows of powerful 
lamps extending down the avenue, as¬ 
sisted by a bright full moon high above 
the dark ice-filled river to the east, brought out 
in vivid black and white the scene before Aline 
Gaines, as she stood, in marmot cap and coat, 
watching the fun on the snowy hilltop close by 
her home near Willett Parkway. 

From curb to curb, girls on sleds, boys on 
sleds, were flashing down the long hill. The 
sidewalks were blocked with other young folks 
wayfaring to the summit with their flyers in 
tow. The hill up which the wide avenue ran 
was a glorious one for the city, five whole 
blocks long, and for the weather-man to have 
arranged a heavy snowfall followed by a sud¬ 
den cold snap was a miracle evidently much 
appreciated by the younger sporting set of the 
neighborhood. And to have the miracle happen 


2 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


on New Year’s Eve, of all times, when every¬ 
body was having vacation and sitting up, on 
principle, until midnight—why, it made one en¬ 
tertain the highest hopes for a new year so aus¬ 
piciously ushered in! 

Aline’s big brown eyes glowed with the pleas¬ 
ure of anticipation over both the glittering 
promise of the coming year and a certain more 
definite pleasure near at hand, as her father, 
escorting his younger daughter Virginia, gay 
in blue-and-orange cap and scarf, and dragging 
a fine sled, joined her on the hilltop. The bril¬ 
liant night had brought so great a crowd of 
coasters that Mr. Gaines was only one of nu¬ 
merous patient fathers nobly shivering on the 
sidewalk in the paradoxical role of bodyguard 
as they proudly watched their accomplished 
daughters fly dizzily and tirelessly past them. 

Close behind Virginia were her two friends, 
Muriel Ives, a demure, dark young lady of 
fourteen in gray furs, and Joyce Barry, a year 
younger, hearty and happy, with a green 
feather cap on her red curls and a green woolen 
scarf strapped around her plump waist. Joyce 
provided the physical weight aboard the sled, 
Muriel the mental poise so desirable in sports, 
and Virginia the necessary dash and daring. 
The sled, too, was a personality. Christened 
‘‘Radio,” long, low, and the swiftest on the 
hill, it was as well known as its trio of coast¬ 
ers, and though many a boy had endeavored to 





A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


3 


borrow Radio for the limited period of just 
one second, none had so far been successful. 

“Where are the other girls?” asked Aline, 
peering past the new arrivals toward the side¬ 
walk. 

“In the drug store at the foot of the hill, 
having soda. Joyce’s father took them,” ex¬ 
plained Muriel. “We’re all invited next time 
we go down.” 

i 6 Come on, then! ’ ’ cried Virginia, bestriding 
Radio, impatient to be off. But Aline turned 
to her father, and inquired the time. 

“It’s not nearly time to go in!” protested 
Virginia, as Mr. Gaines dived into a remote 
watch-pocket. “Is it, daddy?” 

“ It’s ten minutes of nine, ’ ’ replied her father 
diplomatically. 

“Well, we must all stay out until half-past 
nine, because we got permission to,” said 
Joyce firmly. Mr. Gaines laughed and turned 
again toward the sidewalk. 

“I would stay, of course, but I must go and 
help Helena now,” explained Aline. “I’ll see 
you all later. ’ ’ 

“How’s Helena’s mother? Won’t the party 
disturb her?” asked Joyce, boarding Radio be¬ 
hind Virginia. 

“Oh, no, she’s much better to-day.” 

“Aren’t you on yet, Muriel?” cried Virginia, 
jerking her steed’s hempen bridle. 

“Wait, Jinny,” advised Muriel, “there are 




4 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


the boys just starting off to Central Park to 
skate—let’s have them push us off! Roger! 
Ro -ger-r-r! Give me a shove!” 

At this singular command from a lady, Mu¬ 
riel’s tall cousin, Roger Sutherland, detached 
himself from a group of muffled lads hurrying 
westward from Willett Parkway with the 
moonlight glittering on the skates slung across 
their shoulders, and strode toward the trio on 
the sled. On his heels followed the smallest 
figure in the group, a boy of perhaps twelve, 
whose piercing dark eyes followed every move¬ 
ment Roger made. 

“Let her go, Gordon!” cried Roger, apply¬ 
ing a large and capable foot to the rear of 
Radio. Gordon assisted valiantly, and off flew 
Radio on a record-breaking trip, with the pas¬ 
sengers waving to Aline as she went running 
across the snow the half-block eastward to her 
home. 

The old-fashioned Gaines house, high, wide, 
and shallow, stood at the head of a row of red 
brick dwellings built around Straiton Court, a 
curious wide notch cut in the cross-street three 
doors from, and parallel with, Willett Park¬ 
way, where the red dwellings continued along 
the beautiful little park on the East River. The 
quaint privacy of the court gave the houses a 
charm of their own, and Aline, approaching her 
home, recalled what Evelyn Barry, Joyce’s 
pretty fifteen-year-old sister, had said about it 




A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


5 


that very night. Evelyn’s mind was always 
full of clever fancies, and she had said: “Aline 
and Jinny, your house looks exactly like a New 
Year’s picture postal-card!” 

The sloping snowy roof, under the moon, was 
bright silver. On the ground floor, where the 
windows were only slightly above the street, 
lamplight was glowing through rose-colored 
curtains. One of these, in the living-room just 
to the right of the wide front door, was not yet 
drawn, and the passer-by could catch a glimpse 
of green wreaths and silver bells hanging on a 
white and gold wall. Just as Aline reached the 
stoop, a golden-haired girl in a white dress ap¬ 
peared at the window to draw the curtain. She 
saw Aline, and beckoned gaily. 

“I’m back, Helena!” cried Aline, bounding 
into the hall. 1 1 How nice you look! Goodness! 
Another new dress f The girls are coming just 
the way they are.” 

“I haven’t had time to change it since I got 
back from Aunt Suzanne’s. I hate not to wear 
something new every time I go there! ’ ’ Aline 
nodded comprehendingly. “She admitted her¬ 
self that this Russian embroidery might be 
worse,” added Helena, giving a stately glance 
of triumph at her red bandings. “Now, Aline, 
do come and look at your dining-room. I hope 
it’s all right, but I didn’t like to make too many 
arrangements there without consulting you.” 

“I’m sure it’s lovely if you fixed it,” said 




6 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


Aline warmly, turning to her left and entering 
a long, narrow, high-ceilinged room attractively 
furnished in dark oak. The table, ornamented 
with a large pot of poinsettias, was set for nine. 
Three chafing-dishes were standing on it also, 
and on the sideboard were another chafing-dish, 
piles of plates, rows of spoons and forks, and 
numerous mysterious covered bowls and plat¬ 
ters. 

“You must have thought of everything, Hel¬ 
ena,” declared Aline after a brief tour of in¬ 
spection. “What is there left for me to do?” 

“The cooking, child! I have sense enough 
not to attempt that when you’re here. I think 
we’ll have a nice evening, for mother has 
seemed so rested ever since I got back that I 
don’t believe even the noise from the horns will 
worry her, and that blessed Roger Sutherland 
has taken Gordon off to skate. How lovely you 
look, Aline! You’ve got a lot of color, coast¬ 
ing—and you look so gay, too! Has anything 
happened ?’ ’ 

“No, but I just feel as if something was go¬ 
ing to! Something nice! I feel sure of it!” 
And as Helena laughed and began to snap on 
the side-lights around the dining-room, Aline 
danced joyfully upstairs to tidy her blown hair. 

She moved around her room quietly, careful 
not to disturb Mrs. Hawthorne, Helena’s 
mother, who was convalescing from an influ¬ 
enza attack in the Hawthorne apartment on the 


X 




A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


7 


top floor. The Hawthornes had shared the 
Gaines house in this way ever since the death 
of Helena and Gordon’s father several years 
before, as Mr. Gaines, who owned the house, 
found it very expensive to keep up alone. Mrs. 
Hawthorne was a teacher of mathematics in one 
of the city high schools, and besides her two 
younger children, had a daughter married to an 
army captain stationed in the South. 

Aline’s face, reflected in her mirror, was deli¬ 
cate, sincere, eager. Aline, indeed, was always 
eager, usually to do something for somebody 
else. Sometimes she felt herself ineffective, 
realizing dimly that she did not know exactly 
what she wanted, but her kind heart won her 
many friends. Among them was Helena, in 
6pite of the fact that in character the two 
girls had nothing in common. Unlike most girls 
her age—she was approaching sixteen, and 
was two months older than Aline—Helena 
did know exactly what she wanted. Highly 
musical and gifted with a very pretty voice, 
a thorough education for professional sing¬ 
ing was her ambition, and she had a number 
of the qualities which usually mean success: 
good looks, good presence, self-confidence. 
Aline did wish, as she smoothed her simple 
gray jersey frock and slipped downstairs, that 
the New Year would bring Helena the money 
which she had hitherto rather resentfully 




8 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


lacked in planning her future. What else, in¬ 
deed, did Helena need? 

The two girls had had little more than enough 
time to put a few finishing touches on the party 
when all the company arrived at once. It was 
evident that a heated discussion was under way 
as they parked Radio and other less distin¬ 
guished sleds in the vestibule. 

“Of course it’s next year!” came Muriel’s 
piercing voice. 

“It’s this year!” contradicted Joyce. 

“How can it be if it lasts until after twelve?” 
demanded Virginia, throwing open her own 
front door. 

“What’s the matter?” cried Aline and Hel¬ 
ena together, running into the hall to receive an 
excited throng of seven coasters. 

“Let Aline decide, if she’s secretary!” cried 
Dorothy Stone, pulling a purple tam-o ’-shanter 
off her black bobbed hair. “Aline, tell us 
quickly: are you going to date the minutes of 
this meeting of the Linger-Not Club this year 
or next year?” 

“I really don’t know,” answered Aline ear¬ 
nestly. “Let me see; of course I want to do 
whatever is right-” 

A shout of laughter greeted this reply, which 
was so frequently on Aline’s lips that it had 
become a standard joke among the nine friends 
from Straiton Court and Willett Parkway who 
composed the Linger-Not Club. 




A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


9 


“We’re sure of that!” cried tall, gray-eyed 
Rose Willing, giving Aline a hug. “You might 
wait, though, and see what time the meeting 
begins, and then write the date.” 

“It will never he written!” promptly inter¬ 
jected Priscilla Cleveland, the club president. 
“Not one bit of business are we going to have 
to-night. The idea!” 

“All right, then that’s settled,” said Helena 
mischievously, “ ‘Pleasure before business’ is 
our motto.” And she led the way directly into 
the dining-room. 

“A chafing-dish party!” cried Evelyn Barry. 

“How did you ever guess?” asked Aline. 

“And who’s going to cook?” continued Eve¬ 
lyn, unabashed. 

“Priscilla-” 

“Hurrah!” cried every one except fair¬ 
haired Priscilla, whose cheeks grew pinker than 
ever with this sudden honor. 

“Don’t try to be modest, Prissy, it’s no use,” 
advised Dorothy kindly, “for we can all re¬ 
member as far back as last September, and we 
know what we got to eat at The Log Cabin. ’ ’ 

“Well, then, what must I make, please?” 

“Oyster stew,” directed Aline, drawing 
Priscilla to the sideboard. “Here are all the 
things in the bowls. Joyce, we must have some 
of your salted almonds, and Rose must make 
some of her inspired hot fudge. And, if you all 
like, I’ll make some curried eggs. Mother ad- 




10 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


mitted that we could have easily thought of a 
more indigestible supper, so I hope you won’t 
mind if it seems rather plain.” 

“What was it like over at your aunt’s this 
afternoon, Helena!” inquired Virginia, as soon 
as the pangs of hunger were slightly dulled. 

Now Virginia was not noted for tact. The 
only immediate response to this rather direct 
question was that Helena, feeling herself among 
friends yet compelled to preserve family dig¬ 
nity to some extent, made a face of surpassing 
horror and significance. 

“How nice it is,” said Evelyn quickly, “that 
so many people are going to have New Year’s 
receptions to-morrow afternoon! They’re re¬ 
viving an old New York custom, Rose says.” 

“It’s a hospitable custom from the old Dutch 
days,” explained Rose, beating her fudge. 
Rose’s father was the curator of the American 
historical museum in the Jatfrey House, an old 
mansion in Willett Park, where he and his fam¬ 
ily lived, and Rose dearly loved to help him in 
his work and knew a good deal herself about 
antiques and bygone times. “Isn’t it interest¬ 
ing that such a custom should come back after 
having disappeared for years!” 

“Everything you two sweet girls say is true,’’ 
agreed Helena, “but my Aunt Suzanne is not 
interested, alas, in the scientific and historic 
aspects of New Year’s celebrations.” 

Helena’s hearers snickered respectfully, 




A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


11 


though with some surprise, for though “Aunt 
Suzanne,” otherwise Mrs. Henry Marsden, 
who was Mr8. Hawthorne’s sister-in-law and 
lived in a pretentious apartment near Riverside 
Drive, was known to be a lady of some social 
aspirations, Helena had hitherto always seemed 
to admire her. But Helena bit into a sandwich 
and continued: 

“You see, her friend Mrs. G. Witherbee Jer- 
rold is giving a New Year’s reception to-mor¬ 
row, so of course Aunt Suzanne and my two 
cousins must, too. And they didn’t really ask 
me to tea on New Year’s Eve—they invited me 
to stand on a ladder and put up decorations, 
and they did not invite me to the reception, 
though some of the girls ’ friends no older than 
I am are invited.” 

“How mean!” cried headlong Virginia wrath- 
fully, voicing the unanimous sentiment of her 
more reticent companions. “Mrs. G. 'Wither¬ 
bee Jerrold—daddy says her husband’s a cop¬ 
per magnet—what’s G for?” 

“Magnate, Jinny,” corrected Helena, laugh¬ 
ing with the other girls. “G stands for 
George.” 

“Wouldn’t it be just frightful to have people 
think you might be named George Washing¬ 
ton?” suggested Muriel astutely. 

The whole company agreed that such a mis¬ 
apprehension would be hard indeed to bear, 




12 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


and Helena, cheered by the sympathy around 
her, continued enthusiastically: 

‘‘Well, girls, at least I picked up a fine new 
idea this afternoon. It’s something for the 
club to do this—no, next year. No, absolutely 
no business to-night, Priscilla says! I’ll save 
it up to tell at our first business meeting.’ ’ 

“I’ve just felt all evening that something 
wonderful was going to happen next year,” 
cried Aline, “and now Helena has an idea! 
That must be-” 

She broke off abruptly. The others, follow¬ 
ing her startled gaze, saw on the threshold of 
the hall door a slim figure in black, who wore, 
bound around her head and covering her face, a 
fine, dense black veil, embroidered with flashing 
silver stars. 

“Good-evening,” said the visitor in a sweet, 
low voice, “and shall I tell your fortunes this 
New Year’s Eve, my pretty ladies!” 

“Why—how did you get inf” stammered 
Aline. 

“From the street where I was passing. Fear 
nothing, sweet lady! I come—but I go. I do 
no harm.” 

“Maybe it’s a joke,” suggested Dorothy 
skeptically under her breath, but the gypsy 
caught the word. 

“Never say ‘joke’ to the Veiled Gypsy,” 
warned the visitor solemnly. “Come, little 
ladies, let me tell you the year’s outcome. Why 





A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


13 


not?” Aline had begun to shake her head. “Do 
you fear the future?” 

“No, indeed,” denied Aline stoutly. She 
hesitated. The girls were exchanging furtive 
glances of interest, the gypsy seemed harmless, 
there was safety in numbers, and it would be 
unfortunate to make any disturbance that 
might alarm Mrs. Hawthorne. “If—if we let 
you stay just a little while, you’ll go as. soon as 
you’ve finished?” she hazarded. 

“I’ll not remain one instant longer than you 
want me,” promised the veiled figure. 

“Then I’ll go upstairs and get-” 

“Never mind the silver. I’ll tell your for¬ 
tunes for my supper, for I’ve had none,” of¬ 
fered the gypsy. “Is it a bargain? Then sit 
you down here!” 

She waved her arms, and the girls, pleasantly 
fluttered, sank around her on the floor in a 
semicircle. 

“Now listen to me, one by one,” the gypsy 
began, “but remember, the Veiled Gypsy can 
utter veiled sayings.” 

She seized Aline’s hand, looked at it a long 
time amid dead silence, then spoke myste¬ 
riously: 

“For you, a gypsy proverb: Love Bestowed 
—Faith Kept: their Child is Truth” 

Priscilla came next. To her the gypsy said: 

“Where the heart glows on the hearth, hap¬ 
piness will shine.” 





14 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


The general smile of appreciation reflected 
between home-loving Priscilla and her friends 
continued as the visitor turned to Virginia, 
took her hand, and motioning to Joyce and Mu¬ 
riel to place theirs on top of it, declared: 

“Naught can break a three-fold cord woven 
with strength, skill, and speed.’’ 

Rose’8 hand she touched lightly, and said to 
her: 

“Bear the flag across the field of the years!” 

Then came Evelyn. The gypsy held her hand 
some time, and then announced: 

“I see a dense forest before your path-” 

“It’s that awful English mid-term examina¬ 
tion!” shrieked Evelyn. “Do tell me, shall I 
pass?” 

The semicircle was thrown into confusion. 
Even the gypsy coughed. She immediately re¬ 
plied, however: 

“Rely on yourself. Sharp wits can fell any 
forest.” 

Then she turned to Dorothy, remarking: 

“Figures tell their own story, and it’s always 
true, so their good society is just the place for 
you!” 

So the gypsy had a sense of humor! Dorothy, 
as club treasurer, bore a remarkable reputation 
for always making accounts balance, and was 
highly flattered at this reference to her talent. 

Now only Helena remained. The gypsy 




A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


15 


turned, and said to the pretty girl in the white 
and red frock: 

“For you, a riddle: 

‘A stately ship that fought the storm sails past— 

(Gold is the cargo hidden in her hold ) 

Bedecked with flags, she reaches port at last, 

And all who sailed her true and made her fast 

Shall share the bounty heaped beneath her mast. 

(Bead vjm this riddle of the ship with gold !) 9 ” 

Profound silence greeted the end of the for¬ 
tunes. The first and last were certainly baf¬ 
fling, the others plain enough to be appreciated. 
Finally Aline, mindful of her duties as hostess, 
addressed the visitor timidly: 

“Should you like some supper now?” 

“Yes, thank you, Aline, I should,” replied a 
new and yet familiar voice from behind the 
black veil, and the next instant the gypsy was 
waving the veil in her hand and revealing the 
merry face of Miss Langdon, the girls y favorite 
young teacher at the Clifton School. She was 
noted for her fondness for getting up original 
entertainments, but even so, the company was 
almost overcome with the surprise. 

“Oh, goodness!” shrieked Evelyn, hiding 
behind Rose, “I asked Miss Langdon if Pd 
pass her own examination!” 

“But I asked her please to go away!” gasped 
Aline. “Oh, Miss Langdon, do forgive us!” 




16 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Anyway, I said it was a joke!” cried Dor¬ 
othy proudly. 

“Now let me tell what I did!” begged Miss 
Langdon, laughing heartily at the joke all 
round. “I met your mother at market this 
morning, Aline, and she told me about the party 
you were having this evening. She happened 
to say she wondered whether, after so much 
exercise coasting, you girls could all keep awake 
until midnight, as you wanted to, with no ex¬ 
citement except food! She asked me if I knew 
anything to do for you, and feeling rather like 
sitting up late myself, I offered to repeat— 
mildly!—a little stunt I did once at college. 
This time the Dean won’t send for me! And 
I also did this, pretty ladies: I told the truth 
every time!” 

“Yes, you did come in from the street, as you 
said,” admitted Dorothy, “and you didn’t deny 
what I said, and all you prophesied is true so 
far as I can understand it. But I don’t know 
what some of it means at all!” 

“No,” agreed Evelyn, “I suppose you made 
a special prophecy for Aline and Helena be¬ 
cause they were the hostesses, but what do the 
proverb and the riddle mean?” 

Miss Langdon shook her head merrily but 
with just a hint of solemnity. 

“I can’t interpret my own prophecy,” she 
declared. “Let the New Year do that!” 




A PROVERB AND A RIDDLE 


17 


As she spoke, a peal of distant chimes floated 
through the air from the church-bells across the 
wide river, and in instant response came a loud 
blare of horns from the street outside. The 
New Year had arrived! 




CHAPTER II 


THE CHARRED PICTURE 


“ T’S postpone the minutes and the treas¬ 



urer^ report / 9 proposed Dorothy, 


squeezing close to the blazing coals 
under the quaint black marble mantelpiece in 
Muriel’s room, “and hear the Great New Idea 
right away . 9 9 

“Yes, and do let's omit coming to order / 9 
suggested Virginia, from the other side of the 
hearth, “it's such a waste of time, and inap¬ 
propriate, anyway.” 

Muriel threw back her head with a shout of 
laughter, much to the relief of all her eight vis¬ 
itors except Virginia, who did not see why any¬ 
one should laugh at a plain statement of fact. 
The little room certainly seemed crowded and 
disarranged, with so many girls in it, and every¬ 
one trying to hug the fire that cold, wet after¬ 
noon, the last of the holidays. The Ives house 
was the smallest on Willett Parkway, and as it 
contained five children, of whom Muriel was 
the eldest and the only girl, the Linger-Nots 
usually held their meetings somewhere where 
there was more space. But Muriel's room had 


18 


THE CHARRED PICTURE 


19 


proved to be the only possible refuge that af¬ 
ternoon, when such an important program was 
to be decided on, so they had all descended on 
her, and, to tell the truth, not unwillingly. In¬ 
convenient as the Ives house was, heated only 
by fireplaces above the first floor, with strips 
of narrow little rooms laid primly down the 
sides of tiny halls, it held much charm for Mu¬ 
riel ’s friends. Being both an only daughter, 
and one of those happy persons who come off 
best in all struggles, she had secured the most 
desirable of the narrow little rooms, that across 
the rear of the house on the third story. Its 
charm will be instantly appreciated by every 
feminine heart: it contained no less than four 
closets! In them, Muriel had unlimited space 
in which to store and display her Things. 

It is necessary to capitalize this word to show 
of what importance Muriel’s personal posses¬ 
sions were to her. She loved them as most 
girls love fancy clothes and ornaments. If 
there can be visualized a stock of toys, photo¬ 
graphs, books, boxes, baskets, pictures, pro¬ 
grams and prizes and souvenirs, all set out with 
the human interest and poetic disarray of the 
antique shop, the interesting, if rather con¬ 
fused display on Muriel’s closet shelves can be 
imagined. 

“Well, suppose I suspend all previous rules,” 
suggested Priscilla, choking down an echo of 
Muriel’s good-natured laughter over Virginia’s 




20 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


customary frankness. “Go ahead with your 
idea, Helena/’ 

“When I was at my cousins’ on New Yearns 
Eve,” began Helena obediently, “they said 
that next month they were going with a party 
on a trip around the West Indies. Of course 
what they liked best about the trip was that it 
cost a lot, but one of them did say, probably by 
accident, that it would be interesting to travel, 
too. So right away I thought to myself: ‘Why 
don’t we Linger-Nots all go off on a trip to¬ 
gether ? ’ And the next second, this idea popped 
into my head: ‘Why don’t we go to Fair Val¬ 
ley? Next year’—that’s this year, of course— 
‘is the year!’ ” 

Eight wild shrieks of delight rewarded Hele¬ 
na’s speech. It had long been an ambition of 
all the girls to visit the beautiful far-famed 
little seventeenth century settlement of Fair 
Valley in the Berkshire Hills. Its unique and 
thrilling history since the days it had been a 
frontier town on the border-line between New 
England and New France was familiar to 
them all through Miss Langdon’s stories. 
Her sister, who was an artist, taught drawing in 
an old school in Fair Valley, where generations 
of pupils had come and gone for a hundred and 
twenty years, and her charming sketches had 
made Fair Valley seem to the girls like a sort of 
fairyland. And to see it this year, of all years! 

“Sure enough, it’s the year of the great 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


21 


pageant!” “Helena gets brighter every day.” 
“What a wonderful thing for all of us to do 
together!” cried several voices at once. “But 
there's only ninety-four cents in the treasury.” 
This dampening statement came, of course, 
from Dorothy. 

“Oh, to be sure, the trip will cost a lot more 
than we could ask for, but I know how to get 
plenty of money,” declared Helena confidently. 

“For goodness' sake, don't keep it a secret 
then! You must be the only person in the world 
who does know,” cried Rose. “How shall we 
get it!” 

“Earn it.” 

Virginia looked as if she thought this pro¬ 
posal a distinct anti-climax. Helena laughed. 

“I don't know the address of any mint where 
they give out money free, Jinny! Let's each 
work to make money in our spare time, and 
save up for a club Travel Fund. We can all 
find something to do if we try hard enough, and 
the trip won't cost over eleven or twelve dollars 
apiece, for I calculated.” 

“And it's thirteen whole weeks until Easter, 
when they have the pageant,” remarked Pris¬ 
cilla, also with calculation in her eye. “Girls, 
we absolutely mustn't miss this chance. Don't 
you think it's a great plan, well worth working 
for? All right, I'll save some more time. I 
declare a motion to have a Travel Fund made, 
seconded and passed! Now, what work shall 



22 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


we all do to raise it f Come, we ’ve all got to go 
off on a quest for a golden prize, just like the 
Argonauts!’’ 

“But the Linger-Nots will have to beat the 
Argonauts,’’ cried Dorothy, who had a shock¬ 
ing tendency to play on words, “for they could 
work their passage and we have to pay ours! 
So let’s think hard how we’ll do it.” 

After as long as two minutes of profound 
silence, Rose spoke. 

“I have one little idea—it’s so humble, I’m 
ashamed of it after Helena’s brilliant inspira¬ 
tions. Well, if you insist! The principal told 
me just before the holidays that this year we’re 
going to have current events bulletins posted 
three times a week in the three upper class¬ 
rooms at school, beginning right away when we 
go back. Each is to be in charge of a girl who 
is to be paid sixty cents a week for preparing 
the clippings. The principal asked me to take 
one room, and said perhaps I could suggest two 
other people who would be good at it. What 
about you, Evelyn?” 

“I’m sure I’d be splendid,” declared Evelyn. 

“I’d be awfully good, too,” said Priscilla 
with conviction. 

“Then three of us are provided for already,” 
announced Rose. “What’ll the rest of you 
do?” 

“I had a job offered me yesterday at the 
library,” said Joyce hesitatingly, “and per- 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


23 


haps I might take it yet. The librarian asked 
me if I’d like to come every afternoon except 
Monday for the busy hour and put away books. 
But she needed only two girls, and I didn’t want 
to go without both Muriel and Jinny.” 

“Nonsense! How much does it pay?” asked 
Muriel. 

“ Twenty-five cents an hour. But I thought 
all three of us ought to work together on ac¬ 
count of the prophecy.” 

4 ‘ Joyce, to think of you being superstitious! ” 
cried Aline. “ Those prophecies were just non¬ 
sense, to amuse us. Did you think they would 
come true?” 

‘ 1 That one will come true as far as Pm con¬ 
cerned, one way,” said Virginia suddenly and 
firmly. “I know something I can do, some¬ 
thing that’ll take ‘ strength, skill and speed/ 
all right! You and Muriel go to the library, 
Joyce.” 

‘ 4 Well—but what will you do, Jinny?” 

Virginia assumed the expression of Arnold 
von Winkelried about to fling himself on the 
Austrian spears, and answered: 

‘ 6 Tend the Bronson kids.” 

An astonished groan ran around the room. 
Virginia continued inflexibly: 

‘ ‘ They love me. Their mother says so. She ’ll 
give me a dollar a week if Pll amuse ’em 
Wednesday afternoons so she can go to mati¬ 
nees, and Sundays so she can go visiting with- 





24 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


out ’em. She says they don’t visit well. I’ll 
do it—to go to Fair Valley!” 

It should perhaps be stated that at the re¬ 
spective ages of four and six, the son and 
daughter of the neighboring family of Bronson 
were locally considered the two worst children 
on the continent of North America. 

“Jinny, you are a perfect heroine,” declared 
Priscilla. 

“Oh, I’ll be some use,” smiled Virginia pal¬ 
lidly. “A dollar a week—is it really thirteen 
weeks to Easter? Isn’t it twelve? Muriel, 
where’s a calendar?” 

“Well, I’ll go and be an unskilled laborer!” 
cried Dorothy, fired by so much sacrifice and 
industry in a great cause. “I’ll go and join the 
Straiton Court garden squad. They always 
want a few young people to dig and plant the 
garden, and they pay them, and I’ll go and 
work hard and chip in my share of the fund. 
But by the way, what would that be? How 
shall we calculate what each of us must put in, 
since we’ll all earn different amounts each 
week?” 

“Why not make an average?” suggested 
Priscilla. “The ones who work hardest 
oughtn’t to have to give up all their money, 
and I’m sure those who have the easiest jobs, 
like mine, won’t mind adding a few cents each 
week to make things even.” 

This proposal was pronounced to be quite 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


25 


fair, and then just at that moment it seemed to 
be Muriel’s turn to have an idea. 

4 ‘Oh, I have a perfectly lovely box that locks 
up,” she cried, suddenly recollecting the fact. 
“Father got it in London. Let’s take it and 
use it for our bank to hold the Travel Fund.” 

She sprang up and picked her way to the 
largest of her four closets. From the third 
shelf, whereon no box could be quickly distin¬ 
guished by the unaccustomed eye, she plucked 
forth a small, attractive iron-bound pine box 
with a prettily-designed lock. 

“I’ll give us this,” she announced, trying the 
key back and forth. “It’ll hold a lot of money, 
and Joyce can keep it in the little safe in the 
sitting-room wall in her house, can’t you, 
Joyce!” 

Muriel’s suggestion met with general favor, 
especially when Dorothy remarked with the 
practical pessimism common to treasurers: 

“We might as well amuse ourselves. It’ll 
be a long time before we get enough money for 
a real bank to want! Give the box here, Mu¬ 
riel, and let’s start with the ninety-four cents.” 

Muriel swung the box by one end toward 
Dorothy, and immediately gave a shriek of pain. 

“Ouch! Be careful, it’s all splintered on the 
end!” 

She dropped the box hastily, and examined a 
painfully wounded thumb. 





26 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Oh, what a pity!” cried Virginia, dividing 
the remark between the thumb and the box. 
“Muriel, haven’t you got something we could 
paste over that splintered place? It’s such a 
nice box! ’ 9 

“Yes, I guess so, but excuse me until I get 
this splinter out,” returned Muriel rather peev¬ 
ishly, vanishing in the direction of the family 
first-aid kit. 

“You’re not very sympathetic, Jinny,” pro¬ 
tested Aline. i ‘ Muriel really hurt herself . 9 9 

“I am very sorry!” insisted Virginia, 
wounded. ‘ ‘ That’s why I offered to fix the box 
—she likes it more than she just cares about 
her thumb. I know what ! 9 9 She jumped up and 
ran toward the window. Beside this was sit¬ 
uated the smallest of the four closets, which she 
jerked open. “Look here! All these boxes are 
full of picture postals. We could cover up the 
whole box with exciting travel pictures of lakes 
and mountains and cities, you know. Wouldn’t 
that be appropriate ? 9 9 

“Yes, but really, you shouldn’t touch Mu¬ 
riel’s Things without permission. She won’t 
like it,” warned Aline. 

‘ ‘ She showed me all these the other day and 
told me I could look at them—so there!” de¬ 
clared Virginia, as absorbed as a child in the 
contents of a small blue box which she had 
taken from one of the shelves. She spread the 
cards in it out on a little table at one side of 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


27 


the window, which, owing to the crowd in the 
room was partly open in spite of the chilly 
day, and began to sort them, as Rose, turning 
to Helena, inquired: 

“Who’s going in your cousins’ party? Mrs. 
G. Witherbee Jerrold, perhaps?” 

“Oh, no! I don’t know the other people, but 
Mrs. Jerrold can’t be going. Don’t you know 
what she’s doing?” 

“No, what?” 

“She’s running a restaurant down in the 
Wall Street district.” 

“Why, for pity’s sake?” asked Evelyn in 
amazement. 

“Oh, lots of social leaders go into business 
nowadays—it’s the thing,” answered Helena 
grandly and quite innocently. “But of course 
Mrs. Jerrold can’t give her whole time to it, on 
account of her social duties and her children. 
So when she started in she got an assistant 
manager to help her, and girls, what do you 
think? Aunt Suzanne says she’s young and 
very clever and fascinating, but absolutely no¬ 
body at all. You see”—Helena paused impres¬ 
sively —“nobody knows who she is!” 

“Hasn’t she any name?” demanded Joyce, 
open-mouthed. 

“Why, of course. She’s named Felicity 
Hull, but her parents are dead, and she doesn’t 
know who they were, or whether she had any 
relatives. She was brought up by some people 




28 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


in Brooklyn, from whom her father had rented 
rooms a few days before he died suddenly, 
about fifteen years ago. Her guardian is as¬ 
sistant steward in a club Mr. Jerrold belongs 
to, and she has learned all about the restaurant 
business, for she’s been working for years now, 
and that’s how Mrs. Jerrold got her. Isn’t 
that the most romantic story?” 

“I don’t know about ‘romantic,’ I think it 
must be very uncomfortable to be nobody,” said 
Rose thoughtfully. 

“I guess what’s really uncomfortable is to 
have other people think you’re nobody,” said 
Aline rather shrewdly. She had been very 
much interested in Helena’s narrative, as, in¬ 
deed, had all the girls. 

The discussion was suddenly interrupted 
sharply. The wind, which had been rising in 
little gusts in the corner formed by the jutting 
out at right angles with the Ives house of the 
big corner house where Muriel’s cousins the 
Sutherlands lived, unexpectedly blew a strong 
blast through the open window, scattering Vir¬ 
ginia’s cards to all corners of the room. One 
almost flew up the chimney, but being of rather 
thick cardboard, dropped and lay for a moment 
on top of the coals in the grate. With lightning 
speed Dorothy snatched up the shovel and slid 
it under the card, but too late. The card 
smouldered, it caught fire, the faint flame crept 
around it, and died, leaving a flat, smoking, 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


29 


charred slab about five inches wide and four 
high on the fire-shovel. 

“Now I suppose you’ll all say that’s my 
fault! ’ ’ cried Virginia, horrified and injured. 

“Whatever will Muriel say, Jinny?” cried 
Aline in consternation. 

“About what?” Muriel opportunely re¬ 
turned at this point, and put the question her¬ 
self. Virginia pointed forlornly at the shovel 
and its unrecognizable contents, and explained. 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” declared Muriel, in¬ 
terrupting apologies with heroic politeness, for 
she did hate to have any of her possessions in¬ 
terfered with. “It’s of no consequence, really. 
You took it out of the blue box? Well, then, 
whatever the card was, it wasn’t valuable. 
Those cards were part of a lot of old stuff that’s 
been in the house forever. Nobody wanted 
them but me, so I kept them.” 

“It was the picture of a dock, with men load¬ 
ing trunks and things,” faltered Virginia. “I 
thought it would be so appropriate for the 
Travel Fund box! Please forgive me, Mu¬ 
riel.” 

“Forget it, dear one,” advised Muriel. 
“Dorothy, you might as well throw that charred 
stuff into— Gracious! That’s those Suther¬ 
land boys!” 

A loud report, a sharp crack, and the sound 
of crashing glass in quick succession, had 
caused Muriel’s exclamation. But no one was 




30 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


unduly alarmed, for the third floor of the Suth¬ 
erland house was well known throughout the 
neighborhood to be given up to the three boys 
of the family, and to be the scene, especially on 
wet afternoons, of much scientific research 
which was always of a dramatic character. 
Still, Muriel hastened to the window with her 
friends close behind her, and there all beheld 
three smudged and distracted boys’ faces gaz¬ 
ing through a window across the corner, from 
which the panes had disappeared. 

4 ‘What was that this time, Roger?” inquired 
Muriel encouragingly, throwing her own win¬ 
dow wide open. 

“Iodide of nitrogen,” replied Roger illu- 
minatingly, looking even more agitated than 
an explosion seemed to warrant. 

“It was my fault.” Ben, who spoke, was the 
youngest Sutherland, but the soul of honor. 
“We made such a little bit, too! But I forgot 
and put the saucer on the radiator, and the 
stuff dried up, and I went out of the room a 
second and slammed the door when I came 
back, and it exploded. It absolutely will do 
that, somehow, if you jar it when it’s dry. Well, 
I’ll pay for the glass this time.” 

“It’s your turn,” remarked Len, the middle 
Sutherland, with a melancholy satisfaction 
which seemed to indicate that the time before 
had been Len’s turn. ‘ ‘ The real point is Gud- 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


31 


run.” This lady, it should be explained, was 
the Sutherlands ’ temperamental Swedish cook. 

“Bother her!” cried Roger wrathfully. 
“Can’t we ever have any fun without her say¬ 
ing shell leave? And then she never does 
leave, worse luck! She stays, and tells mother 
how nervous we make her, and mother has to 
raise her wages, and says it's our fault.” 

“Cheer up, Ill fix Gudrun,” rejoined Muriel 
capably. “Somebody gave me a box of bright 
purple notepaper for Christmas. Ill bring it 
over and give it to Gudrun to write home on, 
before Aunt Frances gets back from the theater. 
All you 11 have to do is pay for the glass.” 

“That 11 be bully,” said Roger with simple 
gratitude. “Come on, let’s try that experi¬ 
ment over again, there’s some of the stuff we 
made the iodide with left over.” 

“Ro -ger-r-r!” cried Muriel warningly. “If 
you smash any more windows, I’ll be able to do 
nothing. Experiment with something else! ’ ’ 

Roger sniffed disdainfully at this suggestion 
of further failure, then sniffed again sharply 
and with some curiosity. 

“You’re doing experiments yourself, I guess! 
Don’t tell me again that mine smell.” 

“Oh, it’s that thick smoking card,” cried 
Muriel, herself now noticing the odor that was 
escaping from the small room into the open air. 
“One of my cards got almost burned up, Roger, 
that’s all. I’ll go and throw it away.” 




32 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Not one of your precious pet postals? Here, 
hold on a second, Muriel. Show it to me!’ 9 

A most brilliant idea had evidently suddenly 
taken possession of Roger’s brain. He turned 
to his brothers. 

“Let’s restore that card, instead of doing 
the experiment again! Muriel, hand it over 
and we’ll make a new card for you.” 

“Out of ashes?” began Muriel skeptically. 

“Hand it over,” repeated Roger firmly. 
“This will be a different experiment. It’s just 
been discovered how to restore writing on 
burned-up documents. You put the charred 
paper between two sensitive photographic 
plates and leave it a couple of weeks or so, 
then you develop the plate, and out come lines 
wherever the ink was on the document. Then 
you can make a print, like the original. Let’s 
try it with that card. We wouldn’t mind try¬ 
ing, Muriel.” 

‘ ‘ All right, do! ” Muriel could see that Roger 
and the two other boys, in addition to their 
scientific interests, felt a real desire to return 
her favor on behalf of Gudrun. She turned to 
the fireplace, and helped by many willing hands, 
tied up the shovel and the charred picture in a 
sheet of brown paper, remarking softly, “No 
more smashed windows this afternoon, any¬ 
way!” The shovel was then safely conveyed 
across the corner between the two houses into 
Roger’s outstretched hands. 




THE CHARRED PICTURE 


33 


“And now,” recommenced Priscilla, “what 
are Aline and Helena going to do?” 

But at just that instant, a firm rap fell on the 
door, and the voice of a little Ives boy pro¬ 
claimed, without any softening preliminaries: 

“Gordon Hawthorne is downstairs, and he 
wants Helena, and she’s to go home at once!” 




CHAPTER m 

NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 

/f Y dear Helena,’’ said Mrs. Gaines in 
V/l the tone of a kindly person whose 
■** patience is nearly exhausted, 1 ‘ every¬ 
body is very sorry, and appreciates how great 
your disappointment is. But, really—are you 
trying to take it as well as you can?” 

Helena mopped two very red eyes and broke 
a sulky silence with a loud sniff. 

“I do think it’s a shame! Just when I’m al¬ 
most ready to graduate! Just when we’d made 
such wonderful plans for the year! Why can’t 
I ever have anything I like? And I do think 
Aunt Suzanne is just mean—mean— mean! She 
wants me to be a servant. It’s the worst thing 
that’s happened yet!” 

Mrs. Gaines saw that Helena would have to 
be left alone a while, so she rose and left the 
room quietly. It was Mrs. Hawthorne’s pretty 
sitting-room, on the top floor of the Gaines 
house, but only a woe-begone and very cross 

34 


NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 


35 


Helena was there in the window-seat that gave 
a slanting view eastward to the river, where, 
though it was just four o’clock, winter after¬ 
noon shadows were already falling. Two days 
before, Mrs. Hawthorne had been hurried south 
to the warm Virginia breezes at her married 
daughter’s home near Fortress Monroe. 

The New Year, only three weeks old, had 
brought a succession of disasters on the Haw¬ 
thorne family. Mrs. Hawthorne had suffered 
a bad relapse, worse than her original attack 
of influenza, that afternoon when Helena had 
been hastily summoned home from the meeting 
at Muriel’s. She had been promptly ordered 
South by the doctor for some months’ stay, and 
while she had easily obtained leave of absence 
from her school post, this leave meant a cut 
in her salary, already reduced by the expenses 
of her illness and trip. As she had been obliged 
to leave all arrangements for Helena and Gor¬ 
don in the hands of her good friends, Mr. and 
Mrs. Gaines, they had just had a conference 
with Mr. and Mrs. Marsden, the young Haw¬ 
thornes’ only older relatives, and the result of 
it was what Helena had called “the worst thing 
yet.” 

She was most anxious to graduate from 
school the following June, for her mother, be¬ 
fore her illness, had told her that if she com¬ 
pleted the academic course at Clifton at that 
time, she could then begin her serious musical 




36 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


studies. But Mrs. Marsden, for a variety of 
reasons, had suggested other plans, temporary, 
perhaps, but sufficiently disappointing. 

She had pointed out privately to her hus¬ 
band, a kindly enough but rather weak-willed 
gentleman, that his own two daughters were 
to be considered before his niece and nephew, 
and that, as he well knew, the expense of keep¬ 
ing up with Mrs. G. Witherbee Jerrold’s set— 
even as much as that lady permitted!—was 
heavy. Moreover it was manifestly ridiculous 
for a girl like Helena, with no money nor pros¬ 
pects of any, to insist on studying singing. Her 
schooling was her mother’s affair—it could be 
arranged later. Still, while it was a little too 
much to provide unimportant relatives with 
luxuries, it would be simply atrocious not to 
help the children out somehow. Why not give 
Helena an introduction as an assistant in Mrs. 
Jerrold’s most successful Broad Street res¬ 
taurant ? 

For indeed it was successful. Mrs. Jerrold 
might have embarked in business ostensibly be¬ 
cause it was “the thing,” but her actual reason 
was purely financial. Mr. Jerrold had ceased 
temporarily, alas, to be either a copper mag¬ 
nate or a money magnet. The price of copper 
had soared until a long-suffering public had 
announced that their pipes could leak and their 
boilers burst, but buy copper they would not 
until it “came down.” Mrs. Jerrold, who was 




NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 


37 


a lady of distinct personality, had among her 
best points family devotion. The name of Jer- 
rold was with her an object of the utmost 
veneration, and she could not endure the 
thought of seeing its standard lowered. So she 
had promptly launched her enterprise, wisely 
choosing work she understood and putting it 
in a form that appealed to the very numerous 
hungry with the slim purse. Its almost im¬ 
mediate success had caused her recently to in¬ 
form Mrs. Marsden that she was looking for 
two or three new “assistant hostesses.’’ 

“Have you any protegees, dear,” she had 
asked, “attractive young girls—not too experi¬ 
enced, for then they’re grasping and think they 
know it all, you know—that would be the right 
type for my little shop? You know, I’m so 
particular about type” 

What a chance for Helena! thought her aunt. 
What a chance, also, to do a favor to Mrs. G. 
Witherbee Jerrold! The harassed Mr. Mars¬ 
den had finally given in to his wife’s argu¬ 
ments, though with private reservations, and 
Helena had been recommended to Mrs. Jerrold. 

“I don’t think there’s any objection to 
Helena’s doing some work, and she certainly 
needs extra money,” Mrs. Gaines had said to 
her husband at the conclusion of their inter¬ 
view with the Marsdens, “but I do wish she 
were able to finish school now, when she ought 




38 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


to, and wants to. I think the way their rela¬ 
tives treat her and Gordon is shameful.” 

“Look here, my dear,” rejoined Mr. Gaines, 
drawing a long yellow slip from his pocket,, 
“this is three months’ rent which Marsden 
slipped me. It’s a secret! He’s not really a 
bad sort himself.” 

“What do you think of Helena’s going to 
Mrs. Jerrold’s coffee-shop?” 

“I think it has some advantages. It ought 
to be a nice enough place to work, and the work 
itself Helena can do with little training and 
get as much pay for as she could get just now 
at anything. Then Mrs. Jerrold, though you 
may not fancy her personally, is very capable. 
You know her big canteen for the troops down 
South at Orville was officially commended by 
the War Department, and that gave her an ex¬ 
perience she has put to good use down in Broad 
Street. If you can induce Helena to be sen¬ 
sible, she can learn a great deal there, and make 
a good connection. The Jerrolds are unques¬ 
tionably prominent, and while Mrs. J. isn’t al¬ 
ways just like the real thing, her husband is, 
and, as we all know, the name of the Jerrold 
family is famous from Cape Cod to the Golden 
Gate.” 

But Helena had declined, flatly and abso¬ 
lutely, to go to Mrs. Jerrold’s. Why? Because 
Aunt Suzanne had suggested it! That was 
certainly reason enough for refusing 




NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 


39 


The gray water at which Helena sat gazing 
had gradually become lost in the darkness, 
when there came a tap on her door. 

“Come in!” she snapped. 

“It’s just me,” said Aline humbly, quite un¬ 
grammatical from nervousness. She had just 
had a talk with her mother, and came on a 
special errand. 

“Sit down if you like.” Helena was un¬ 
gracious, but she knew Aline was soothing, and 
would never talk about that disgusting coffee- 
shop unless the topic was started. So Helena 
continued: “I suppose you’ve heard Aunt Su¬ 
zanne’s latest?” 

“I guess I know what you mean,” said Aline 
softly from the darkness. 

“Fancy waiting on the table in a coffee-shop! 
Can you imagine anything more awful?” 

“Why—I guess so! It must be rather ex¬ 
citing there, I think.” 

“What d you know about it?” 

“Father ent there for luncheon to-day. He 
says it’s a very nice place. All the hostesses 
wear the most artistic costumes.” 

“What are they like?” demanded Helena, 
forgetting all previous sensations of horror. 

“The waist is black sateen, and it has short 
sleeves. Then the skirt is cretonne, black with 
yellow flowers, and there’s a sash of the same 
stuff. Father asked someone there to tell him 
what it was, that’s how he knew! He talked 




40 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


to some of the girls, too, and he says they’re 
nice girls—like us, Helena!” 

“Well, I think I’ve said about a thousand 
times I’m willing to work,” reiterated Helena, 
“and if your father liked the place, it must 
be nice in itself. I hope he didn’t bother to 
go on my account. ’ ’ 

“I think,” said Aline gently, “that he went 
on mine.” 

“On yours?” 

“Yes. You know, Helena, nobody has been 
building many houses lately, and father’s 
architectural firm hasn’t been very busy for 
quite a while. Did I tell you Tom had got a 
job?” Tom was the Gaines boy, away at col¬ 
lege. “Such a joke! He delivers milk in the 
town at six every morning! When he wrote 
home about his work, I just asked mother if 
she wouldn’t like me to help, too, and now your 
aunt has said that Mrs. Jerrold wants two or 
three girls, so I finally have persuaded father 
and mother to let me go and work with her 
awhile, if, of course,” she added modestly, for 
the grandeur of Mrs. Jerrold had been plenti¬ 
fully advertised by Mrs. Marsden, “my type is 
good enough! ’ ’ 

“Type — fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Helena 
scoffingly. 1 ‘ Aline, do you mean to say you have 
to leave school?” 

“No, isn’t it splendid? I’m going to trans¬ 
fer into the household arts course anyway at 




NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 


41 


the new term next month, and in that course 
you don’t go to school all day, only when you 
have classes. Now you know this work at the 
coffee-shop takes only about three hours in the 
middle of the day, so I can take part of my 
course in the afternoon. Then maybe next year 
I’ll be able to make up the morning work.” 

Helena was silent. Aline plucked up cour¬ 
age for a bold stroke. * 

41 Helena, why don’t you go ahead and take 
that hostess position! You won’t mind it so 
much if I do it, too. And your mother would 
appreciate it. You were so good to her when 
she was sick! If you did that work now, she 
would know you were getting along well with¬ 
out her, and it would make her better at once. 
Then, you haven’t much more studying to do 
to graduate in that academic course you’re 
taking at Clifton. Maybe the principal could 
arrange things for you, too. And wouldn’t it 
help Gordon!” 

Oh, Gordon! Gordon of the lank, stringy 
brown curls, of the big hands and feet on pipe- 
stem arms and legs, clumsy, rough, extraordi¬ 
narily clever but so shy that he actually seemed 
stupid, and yet the only person to whom fas¬ 
tidious, beauty-loving Helena was always ten¬ 
der! He was a strange little boy, too retiring 
to be popular, though he repaid kindness such 
as good-natured Roger Sutherland’s with the 
incense of hero-worship. Helena he loved si- 




42 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


lently, and brought her many offerings of his 
own manufacture, the latest of which, a typical 
one, was the glass pin-tray covered with cigar- 
bands now reposing in the midst of her silver- 
gilt toilet set. Gordon attached himself only to 
those who represented to him some romantic 
ideal. For instance, his best friend was Mr. 
Hornsby of South Carolina, a stalwart hero of 
eighty-two, who, having followed the sea in his 
youth, fought through the Civil War, and trav¬ 
eled as carpenter with a circus for many years, 
was now continuing his crowded career as sex¬ 
ton of a little church in a quiet side street near 
Willett Parkway. Yes, Aline was right, Helena 
admitted, realizing fully the delicacy with 
which her friend spoke. If she refused this 
chance to help in a crisis, she would destroy 
Gordon’s good opinion of her, and Gordon, she 
well knew, was a person who lived only by 
ideals. 

Well, embarrassing as it might be to back 
down, there was no doubt that Gordon out¬ 
weighed Aunt Suzanne. After a long pause, 
Helena stirred, sighed profoundly, and spoke: 

“All right, I’ll go to Mrs. Jerrold’s.” 

“Helena dear! How splendid of you!” Aline 
was much gratified, but privately equally aston¬ 
ished, over the success of her errand. 

“I guess I am a dreadful selfish pig, Aline! 
But I do hate so many changes all at once, and 
all horrid. First mother goes away, and now 




NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 


43 


I’ll go downtown every day, and Annt Suzanne 
will think I am a complete door-mat! And all 
our plans for Fair Valley will be upset. Just 
think of it, when I thought of everything! Can 
you and I ever go? And Dorothy says there’s 
over ten dollars in the box already.’ 9 

“As for the trip,” said Aline firmly, “Vm — 
going . Now, that’s settled. You can do as you 
please, Helena dear. What, you’re coming too? 
Good! As for changes, let’s try to get some¬ 
thing out of them, at least. Maybe we can make 
new friends downtown. And as for door-mats, 
how can anybody think you ’re one when you ’re 
out in the great world, with your fingers on the 
pulse of commerce?” 

Helena was much impressed with this pleas¬ 
ant characterization of waiting on the table in 
a restaurant, and the idea improved with time. 

She was indeed quite restored to normal 
serenity by the next afternoon, when she and 
Aline set forth for an appointment made with 
Mrs. Jerrold for three o’clock. The principal 
at the Clifton School had been sympathetic and 
had arranged Helena’s course as satisfactorily 
as Aline’s, for the former had only three 
courses to complete before receiving her di¬ 
ploma, and it was found that she could attend 
classes early in morning periods, just as Aline 
attended afternoon sessions. Word of the new 
enterprise, moreover, had been received by the 




44 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


other seven Linger-Nots with the most flatter¬ 
ing curiosity. 

i ‘What do you suppose she’ll say to us?” 
inquired Aline, for perhaps the tenth time, as 
she and Helena boarded the subway train. 

< ‘ My dear, nobody ever knows what Mrs. Jer- 
rold will say. People who like her say that’s 
her peculiar charm, and people who don’t, say, 
what can you expect?” 

This divergence of opinion Helena explained 
at the first station where the roaring express 
stopped. She had learned from her cousins 
that while Mr. Jerrold was a Mayflower de¬ 
scendant and was popularly considered to have 
all the traditional advantages of this heritage, 
his wife belonged to the line of one of those 
worthy Ulstermen who came to America in 
large numbers in the middle of the last century 
and soon made fortunes in dry-goods. Mrs. 
Jerrold, it seemed, had inherited much of the 
enterprise and tenacity of her race, which was 
variously interpreted by critics. 

“Here’s Wall Street at last. I thought we 
should never get here! ’ ’ sighed Aline nervously. 

‘ ‘ Goodness, are we here already! ’ ’ exclaimed 
Helena. “Aline, what are you scared about 
now? This is lots of fun! But do take your 
hands out of your pockets and don’t waggle 
your head that earthworm-sort-of-way if you 
want anybody to hire you. Now we go down 
this hill on Wall Street, your father says, and 




NEXT STOP, WALL STREET! 


45 


turn to the right at Broad Street, and go south 
until we see the Golden Samovar. ’ 1 

Both girls refreshed themselves with a slight 
titter over the name of the coffee-shop, which 
represented Mrs. Jerrold’s solitary flight of 
imagination. Certainly to call a Wall Street 
coffee-shop, designed for conservative business 
clients, after a vessel intended by Russians for 
the service of tea and made out of copper in¬ 
stead of gold, was a remarkable venture in 
names. Still, it had proved a good advertise¬ 
ment. 

Two brief blocks of skyscrapers and hurrying 
crowds of business men and women, and then 
before them, swaying in a brisk wind from the 
harbor, a glittering sign-board ornamented 
with a gilded urn swung across the sidewalk 
from the second story of a low, old-fashioned 
building set in the row of towers. It was the 
ensign of the Golden Samovar. 

“Do we go up these stairs that come down 
on the street t ’ ’ whispered Aline. 

“Right up,” answered Helena, leading the 
way. 

At the head of the long flight a doorway led 
directly into the coffee-shop. But before the 
two girls could even glance around, there 
stepped from a little office at the left the most 
striking girl either of them had ever seen. She 
was tall, rather gaunt and pale, and of a very 
upright carriage. Her head was beautifully 




46 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


shaped, and her straight tawny hair must have 
been very long, for it was all gathered into one 
braid which was wound once around her head. 
Her eyes were at once extraordinarily keen and 
sweet, their bright hazel iris set off by curving 
lashes and high-arched, fine black eyebrows. 
She was plainly dressed in a tailored brown 
dress with white collar and cuffs, very becom¬ 
ing to her strong figure. Her age might have 
been twenty. Everything about her conveyed 
instantly a strong impression of life and bal¬ 
ance and power. 

This could never be the girl at the Golden 
Samovar who was nobody at all! But sud¬ 
denly, just as she was about to address the 
newcomers, a sharp voice from inside the office 
behind her called imperiously: 

4 ‘ Felicity! Come here ! 9 9 




CHAPTER IV 

THE TAN OVERCOAT 

Y ES, Mrs. Jerrold,” replied the girl, 
turning in the direction from which 
the voice came. 

“Two applicants are to be here at this time. 
Show them right in when they come.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Jerrold.” The girl turned back 
and smiled encouragingly at Aline and Helena. 
“Will you step this way, please?” 

Through the little office into a private room 
beyond she conducted them, and ushered them 
into the august presence of Mrs. G. Witherbee 
Jerrold herself, a stout lady in the late forties, 
seated behind a desk. 

“Which of you is Mrs. Marsden’s niece?” 
demanded Mrs. Jerrold without any prelimi¬ 
naries whatever. 

“I am,” replied Helena, a little startled. 

“Indeed! I am amazed-” 

Mrs. Jerrold ceased speaking, in rapt con¬ 
templation of the two girls before her. Helena, 
47 


48 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


unabashed, gazed back at her with respectful 
interest, and even Aline managed to steal a 
glance or two at the redoubtable lady. She was 
squarely built, her bright sandy hair was care¬ 
fully marcelled, and beneath her sandy eye¬ 
brows were sharp gray eyes. Her skin was 
colorless, her mouth large and emphatic. She 
wore a handsome tailored gown of gray. 

—‘ i that Mrs. Marsden could actually have a 
niece of your type,” she finished suddenly. She 
then swung toward the tall girl, who was leav¬ 
ing the room. 

‘‘Felicity! What about the refrigerator lin¬ 
ing?” 

* ‘ The workmen will bring it to-morrow morn¬ 
ing at half-past eight, Mrs. Jerrold.” 

i ‘See that you are here on time. What was 
that disturbance in the kitchen a moment ago?” 

“A fuse blew out. I replaced it tempo¬ 
rarily-” 

“Did you send for the superintendent?” 

“Yes, he will be here shortly.” 

“How many stewed apricots were left over 
from luncheon?” 

“Nineteen.” Was there the faintest ghost 
of a twinkle in the girl's eyes? No, she was 
perfectly sober. 

“Have you telephoned to-morrow's meat 
order?” 

“Not yet. What do you wish me to get?'' 

“Corned beef and flounders. Order them at 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


49 


once. Oversee the superintendent yourself 
without fail when he comes up, and also be on 
hand in case I should want you.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Jerrold.” The girl bent her head 
politely, on being finally released, and disap¬ 
peared. 

Mrs. Jerrold now turned to Aline and 
Helena, who were still standing. Seeing them 
rather overwhelmed by the foregoing avalanche 
of professional conversation, her immobile face 
took on a shade of complacency, and she or¬ 
dered, not without a touch of affability: 

“Sit down. Take off your hats.” She stud¬ 
ied Helena’s shining puffs with distinct ap¬ 
proval, and then transferred her gaze to 
Aline’s sleek dark head. “It’s extremely old- 
fashioned to part your hair down the middle, 
dear child.” 

“What—what must I do to it?” stammered 
poor Aline. 

“Leave it alone,” decided Mrs. Jerrold ab¬ 
ruptly, “after all, it suits your type.” 

Following this complimentary remark came 
a long catechism on experience, moral charac¬ 
ter and family history which seemed finally to 
be passed by both girls, since Mrs. Jerrold at 
length announced: 

“Well, I will try you both. Be here promptly 
— promptly —at eleven every morning, for I re¬ 
quire you only for the luncheon. We serve 
breakfast, but Miss Hull, who showed you in, 




50 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


takes care of that. She assists me,” observed 
Mrs. Jerrold, pleasantly condescending and 
confirming the impression of the girls that pos¬ 
sibly Miss Hull was of some slight use. 4 ‘She 
is a typical New York working-girl, capable, 
enthusiastic, and loyal always in regard to my 
interests. She will instruct you in your duties. 
Attend strictly to your work at all times. You 
will not chat with customers, or entertain them, 
or take tips. Remember that I pay you per¬ 
fectly fair wages, which you have agreed to. I 
hope you will enjoy your work here.” 

Finally she pressed a button, and Felicity 
Hull again appeared, to the intense relief of 
Aline and Helena. 

“Let’s go right upstairs and try on your 
hostess uniforms,” suggested Felicity as she 
led her two flushed charges into the hall. Then, 
as they mounted the narrow staircase of the old 
building, she added : 1 ‘ You Ve got a good start! 
I knew Mrs. Jerrold must be pleased with you 
both, she talked to you so long.” 

“Good gracious!” burst forth Aline, who 
had been deeply wounded. “She told me I 
looked old-fashioned!’ ’ 

“And she said not to entertain customers 
or take tips! I wonder where she thinks I was 
brought up.” Helena looked outraged. 

“She was just talking business,” said Fe¬ 
licity lightly, leading the way into a storeroom 
and opening a closet wherein appeared rows of 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


51 


smart black-and-yellow dresses. “She says 
things like that to everybody. It’s so important 
for a hostess always to look and behave her 
best—why, it’s you who can make the business 
succeed or fail!’’ 

Felicity’s pleasant, sensible manner went far 
in soothing the two newcomers, and while they 
were examining the uniforms in a pier-glass 
which the foresighted Mrs. Jerrold doubtless 
had had placed in the best light in the room, 
their guide continued agreeably: 

“All the girls like it here. The work’s not 
hard, it needs only a little care and skill. And 
Mrs. Jerrold never spares herself, and she in¬ 
spires everybody else to work. Why, the 
coffee-shop’s been here only a few months, and 
just wait until you see the crowds we have!” 

“For both breakfast and luncheon?” asked 
Aline, recalling Mrs. Jerrold’s statement about 
Felicity. 

“Chiefly for luncheon. We have a good many 
people for breakfast, but I need only a few of 
the girls to help me with that. Most of them 
come just for luncheon, like you. I’m here all 
day long, but I live just across the river on 
Brooklyn Heights, so it’s easy for me to get 
here early. And then, managing a restaurant 
is my business,” said Felicity with pretty pride. 
“I started in it six years ago!” 

Judging by Felicity, it did not seem to be 
such a bad thing to be a typical working girl. 




52 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


Indeed, the impression she made compared 
quite favorably with that made by Mrs. Jer- 
rold, whose peculiar charm seemed to consist 
in having very bad manners and being very 
anxious that everybody should know it. Nev¬ 
ertheless, her restaurant reflected the greatest 
credit on the woman who had created it in an 
inconvenient old office-building never intended 
to house one. 

Indeed, when Helena took up her position 
beside the Broad Street window next morning, 
she was already proud of being identified with 
the Golden Samovar. Before her stretched a 
long, narrow room with pearl-tinted walls and 
wainscoting. On the shining black tables were 
small yellow vases, containing early jonquils, 
whose color was repeated in the yellow bars 
across the backs of the black-painted, quaintly 
shaped kitchen chairs set around the tables. 
The numerous attractive girls scattered down 
the room in their gay costumes gave the scene 
a home-like atmosphere, which received its 
crowning touch from a bright wood fire roaring 
on the old-fashioned brick hearth half-way 
down the room. One had to admit that close 
attention to details like stewed apricots and 
types had resulted in a very comfortable, pleas¬ 
ant restaurant, evidently highly appreciated 
by the Wall Street workers who were already 
beginning to stream in. 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


53 


All early arrivals seated themselves as close 
as possible to the fire, for it was a chilly, gray 
day, with promise of snow in the air. Aline ’s 
first customer arrived, a gentleman of Spanish 
extraction, with fierce points on his mustache, 
who promptly knocked all yesterday after¬ 
noon’s instructions on emergencies galley-west 
by demanding “a leetle egg-cup to stand up 
in!” But before even Aline could so much as 
falter, Felicity, who seemed to have a watchful 
eye on everything, brought a small egg-cup for 
the egg, not the gentleman, to stand up in. 
Gradually more and more hungry men and girls 
from the surrounding offices arrived, and then, 
suddenly among their number, a dark-com¬ 
plexioned, strong-looking, very young man 
adorned with large round tortoise-shell rimmed 
spectacles, bounded through the doorway. He 
glanced at the fireplace. Surrounded.— Next 
best, the window. In twenty seconds he had 
flung a pepper-and-salt cap and a tan overcoat 
on a hook and was ensconced in that seat under 
Helena’s jurisdiction which commanded both a 
full view of the street and one of the long room 
in the firelight. 

And now Helena was actually getting her 
first customer’s order filled at the pantry win¬ 
dow! She had remembered everything, too. 
No! She had forgotten her very most impor¬ 
tant instructions, in no case to be omitted! 
She repaired the omission, then passed down 




54 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


the long room, deftly spread out his luncheon 
in front of the lad with the tortoise-shell spec¬ 
tacles, and poising her tray behind him, in¬ 
quired in her sweetest tone: 

“A cup of the Brown Magic coffee?” 

“Heaven forbid!” ejaculated the boy in such 
accents of anguish that Helena almost dropped 
the tray on which, anticipating an affirmative 
answer, she had already brought a cup of the 
famous beverage featured by the Golden Sam¬ 
ovar. Just managing to catch it, she brought 
it up with such violence that some of the coffee 
splashed a magic brown pattern on the right 
sleeve of the tan overcoat on the hatrack. The 
customer glared at Helena sternly. 

“I am so sorry,” stammered the new hostess, 
horribly disconcerted by this introduction to a 
supposedly graceful and esteemed career. 
“Please do let me-” 

“I’ll fix it for you, Mr. Burchard,” said Fe¬ 
licity’s pleasant voice behind Helena. She 
snatched the coat from the rack with an amused 
twinkle in the keen hazel eyes that saw so much, 
and whispered to Helena: ‘ 1 Get him a glass of 
milk. ’ ’ 

Helena, turning to flee to the pantry, heard 
the customer say: 

“Thank you very much, Miss Hull.” 

“Not at all, Mr. Burchard. Just a dash of 
cold water will do it. ’ ’ 





THE TAN OVERCOAT 


55 


i ‘This is malicious, Miss Hull! ‘First, just a 
dash of cold water,’ groaned the young man 
feebly. 1 ‘Can’t I ever get away from it?” 

Helena was shocked to find that she must 
have unwittingly annoyed one who must he a 
steady customer if he knew Felicity’s name, but 
she was positively stunned to note that Felic¬ 
ity gave no reply but a chuckle to the cus¬ 
tomer’s last remark as she bore off the coat 
kitchenward. But the coffee catastrophe was 
evidently entirely forgotten at once by the spec¬ 
tacled lad, who despatched his luncheon and 
vanished as fast as he had arrived. 

All through the rush and excitement of serv¬ 
ice that first day, both the new hostesses were 
intensely interested by all they saw at the 
Golden Samovar, and not the least interesting 
thing to be noticed was that Mrs. Jerrold left 
the whole supervision of the lunch-room to Fe¬ 
licity. It was almost as if she knew herself 
less qualified to meet the customers, with whom 
Felicity was plainly a favorite. All that she 
did, however, Mrs. Jerrold watched sharply 
through the door of her little office. 

After the last guest had finally departed, two 
hours or so later, it transpired that it was 
customary for the newest hostesses to remain 
an extra-half hour and fold napkins for the 
next day. As this duty seemed to be a most 
amusing joke among the Comrades of the Gold¬ 
en Samovar, as the young assistants dubbed 




56 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


themselves, Helena and Aline joined in it 
good-naturedly, and sat down together at one 
end of the long room, with piles of napkins 
on the table in front of them, and set to work 
industriously. They were not sorry to he alone, 
after so much noise and bustle. The cooks were 
in the kitchen at the far end of the room, but 
Mrs. Jerrold had started for her Park Avenue 
home early, as was her custom, and Felicity 
was in the office telephoning. 

“Helena, I think I’ll like it here,” said Aline 
confidentially. “It’s lots of fun to see so many 
people, isn’t it? And aren’t the other girls 
nice, especially Felicity? And Mrs. Jerrold 
told me I had done well—wasn’t that kind of 
her?” 

“No,” denied Helena, “because you did do 
well. Still, perhaps I’d think so if she’d said 
it to me. However, she didn’t see me make that 
terrible break, so I don’t care. But I’m sure it 
wasn’t all my fault. Did you ever see such a 
goose as that dreadful crank in spectacles ? ’ ’ 

“I don’t see just how he could like having 
coffee spilled on his clothes,” suggested AJine 
mildly, “but what was the matter with him, 
anyway?” 

“I give it up. But perhaps he’ll never come 
again,” replied Helena hopefully. And then, 
possibly because she felt that as her first day 
had been successful, on the whole, the promise 
for coming days must be good, she began 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


57 


to sing softly at her work, as she often did, to 
the delight of everyone within earshot, some 
familiar lines from her school song-book: 

“The path triumphal of the rainbow bright 
How often have you seen within the sky! 

How often heard that story of delight 
That at the end a pot of gold doth lie, 

That he who follows on with footsteps bold 
Shall surely find the pot and keep the gold!” 

Footsteps bold suddenly sounded on the 
staircase. Helena abruptly stopped singing, 
but her lips had not closed on the last note 
when the visitor appeared in the doorway. He 
was the crank in spectacles. 

He walked down the room with dignity, and 
halted some little distance from the table where 
Helena sat facing him. 

“Pardon me. That was you singing!” he 
remarked. 

“Well!” parried Helena. 

“I just asked. You are new. I merely wish 
to state that when you took my order this noon, 
I did not observe, until after I had had some¬ 
thing to eat, that you were new, and then it 
occurred to me that my refusal of your incom¬ 
parable coffee might have startled you. I re¬ 
gret it. You will understand my feeling, how¬ 
ever, when I tell you I am employed in the 
advertising department of the Wall Street tea- 




58 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


and coffee-house which had not only put Brown 
Magic on the market, but which had been trying 
to make every American citizen, over the age of 
two, buy one pound during the last three weeks. 
So I didn’t want any for luncheon. Possibly 
you understand now?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” 

“It would have been quite impossible for 
you to have known. Nevertheless, I regretted 
my hasty reply. I intended to speak to you 
about it to-morrow. I came in now to see Miss 
Hull. Is she here ? ’ ’ 

“Right here, Andrew!” cried Felicity, 
bounding out of the office door with a thick 
memorandum-book in her hand. “What are 
you doing here now? It won’t be time for 
luncheon again until noon to-morrow. ’ ’ 

“Listen, Felicity!” cried Andrew or Mr. 
Burchard eagerly. “Want to go to an auction 
on Saturday afternoon?” 

“I’d like to, but-” 

“Oh, gosh! Can’t you ever lock the door 
and quit? You’ll have hash Monday anyway— 
no use fussing about that!” 

“Andrew Burchard, you have never had hash 
in this restaurant on Monday or any other day, 
as you well know. You also know that I am 
always off on Saturday afternoons.” 

“Then why don’t you say you’ll come?” 

“I will, if you won’t spend your whole pay 
envelope.” 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


59 


4 ‘Tell you what: I’ll give you two nickels, 
and you can tie ’em up in a corner of your 
handkerchief, so we don’t have to walk home 
this time. How’s that?” 

“A great financial scheme! All right, I’ll 
come.” 

“That’ll be fine. I’ll stop for you, then. And 
don’t worry too hard about that pay envelope, 
because I’ve spent some of it already—the 
same way!” 

“Andrew!” 

“Got the finest bunch of old chromo adver¬ 
tisements you ever saw, by just wandering into 
an auctioneer’s on Broadway yesterday after¬ 
noon. Old Wakefield turned bright pea-green 
when he saw them, and I left him amusing him¬ 
self with them now. Well, so long, Felicity. 
I’d better be on my way, Wakefield thinks I’m 
in Jersey City by this time.” 

He clattered downstairs, and Felicity 
looked at Helena and Aline and laughed. 

“If I don’t do some explaining, you’ll think 
I’m breaking the rule about entertaining cus¬ 
tomers,” she said, “but the truth is that An¬ 
drew Burchard has been a neighbor of mine 
ever since he used to pull my pigtail when it 
hung down straight. His elder sister is just 
my age and we’re great friends. Andrew 
comes here for luncheon often, and of course 
we’re very formal in business hours.” 




60 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“I noticed that,” smiled Helena. “Before 
you came, he apologized about the coffee. I 
was surprised!” 

“Pm not. ThaPs Andrew exactly, straight 
to the point always.” 

“I hope the overcoat is all right?” 

“Entirely. That overcoat is a great joke 
among our circle, and that was probably the 
reason he was so concerned about it. He’s 
wearing it to get a prize.” 

“A prize!” cried both girls at once. 

“His grandfather promised to send him 
abroad to study poster-making in Paris if he 
could prove he was not extravagant. I ought 
to say that he’s a commercial artist just now 
with Wakefield and Company’s. He naturally 
is crazy to go, so he told his grandfather in¬ 
stantly that he wouldn’t buy a new overcoat 
this winter. Unfortunately he found after¬ 
wards that he had quite outgrown his last 
year’s winter coat. So he’s wearing his spring 
one in mild weather, and he’s bought three 
sweaters to go under it in severe weather. 
That’s not extravagant, you know—it’s a se¬ 
cret, anyway!” 

“So Andrew has kept his word, and he’s 
going to Paris! ’ ’ cried Helena, laughing. 

“You’ve summed up his whole character!” 
laughed Felicity. “As for going, he goes 
everywhere, and enjoys everything, for in¬ 
stance, those colored ads, which I don’t doubt 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


61 


will give him some new ideas for his work, 
which he loves. Everything interests Andrew 
Burchard. He comes from a very nice family, 
too. I’m sure Andrew has a fine future. He 
already has an extremely good position for a 
boy only eighteen, and he’s going to rise fast 
and keep on rising. ’ ’ 

Felicity sparkled with pleasure at the idea. 
It was a revelation of her character to the two 
girls listening to her. For all her good looks 
and charm, she was evidently hard-worked and 
in humble circumstances. It seemed an unfair 
state of things, yet she wasted no time in re¬ 
sentment. She was big enough to be delighted 
that a boy considerably her junior, who had 
been bora to home advantages she could never 
hope to enjoy, should have a future in prospect 
far more brilliant than anything she could ex¬ 
pect, with all her efforts. 

4 ‘Don’t do any more to-day, girls,” she said 
now. “You must be tired, everyone is the first 
day. Go on home.” 

“When do you go!” asked Aline, rising. 

“Mrs. Jerrold expects me to lock the door!” 
answered Felicity drolly but not very specifi¬ 
cally, as the two took their departure. 

“Helena, why does Mrs. Jerrold act so 
queerly to Felicity, when Felicity does every¬ 
thing she wants her to!” asked Aline as they 
reached the street. 




62 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


4 ‘My dear child, why do you ask me?” 

“I didn’t think you’d know, I just wanted to 
see if you had noticed it,” returned Aline with 
a frankness that would have done credit to 
Virginia herself. “Helena, doesn’t Felicity 
interest you tremendously? Would you ever 
really think that she was absolutely nobody 
at all?” 

“No,” replied Helena slowly with a reminis¬ 
cent consideration not relating, it is to be 
hoped, to her Aunt Suzanne, “not unless I 
were a complete idiot.” 

“Then, listen!” Aline summoned her cour¬ 
age, clutched Helena’s wrist, and breathed low 
into her ear: “Let’s try to find out who she 
really is!” 

“Goodness, Aline, what an idea! I like it, 
but how could we? Don’t you suppose anyone 
has tried to before now?” 

“Not much,” said Aline shrewdly. “I don’t 
believe the sort of people that brought her up 
could find out, no matter how much they wanted 
to. How could we? Well, we could start by 
collecting all the facts we can about her. Then, 
when we have a lot, all nine of us can talk them 
over, and I think we ought to find at least one 
idea to work on.” 

“Oh, all nine of us,” repeated Helena. “In 
that case, there ought to be no end of ideas! 
But you had the first one, Aline—you thought 
of doing it! ” 




THE TAN OVERCOAT 


63 


* 1 I’ve always wanted to ever since you told 
us about Felicity that day at Muriel’s,” con¬ 
fided Aline. “ Though I had never seen her, I 
did wish I could do something for another girl 
so unfortunate. If we could only find out who 
she is—think what it would mean to her to 
know ! 9 9 

“That’s exactly like you, Aline, ,, declared 
Helena, with a softness usually absent from 
her tone. “I know all the girls will want to 
do it. And just think”—temptation was too 
much for Helena!—“what it would mean to 
another lady if Felicity should turn out to be 
—anybody!” 




CHAPTER V 


ALINE JUMPS OFF 


~7 last, then, Aline had found a real cause 



to work for! To trace Felicity’s family 


aroused not only her unselfish sympathy 
and determination, but all her rather ingenious 
and tenacious wit as well. Moreover, she was 
confirmed in her determination during the 
weeks that followed the beginning of her work 
at the Golden Samovar by the fact that Felicity 
very soon returned her liking. Though there 
was over five years’ difference in their ages, 
they became quite friendly, for Felicity, simple, 
direct and keen, immediately appreciated the 
younger girl’s ability and excellent service. 
Furthermore, all the other Linger-Nots besides 
Helena considered Aline’s idea capital, were 
thrilled with its boldness, and only awaited 
some definite clue to join heartily in the search 
for the lost family connection. 

Obviously, though, the matter was a delicate 
one, and really only Felicity’s business. It 
might be that she would not care for outside 


64 


ALINE JUMPS OFF 


65 


interest in her affairs, though at the same time 
it was both improbable that she would not like 
to know her own history, and impossible really 
to start any search without finding out what 
facts, however few, she knew about it already. 
Aline and her friends had therefore to content 
themselves with the few observations the for¬ 
mer could make from day to day as she worked 
with Felicity, and it was not until one mild 
Saturday afternoon early in March that she 
felt the time had come to launch her enterprise. 

She was strolling slowly up Broad Street 
toward the Brooklyn subway station, so that 
Felicity, who had been unexpectedly detained, 
might overtake her. Aline had been invited 
that afternoon to Felicity’s home. Several 
weeks before, on an occasion of sudden disas¬ 
ter now famous in the annals of the Golden 
Samovar, Felicity had invented an astounding 
salmon-pink salad-dressing with chives, shal¬ 
lots and green peppers which had since become 
a feature of the menu and which Aline had 
once expressed a longing to learn to make. 
Hence the invitation, and Aline could not but 
feel that it had come at a most propitious 
moment. 

That very afternoon, when she and Helena 
were putting up new curtains in the private 
office, Mrs. Jerrold had called in Felicity to 
ask her opinion on some new tumblers. Though 
she never had exhibited any gratitude toward 




66 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


her assistant, it was evident that she often re¬ 
lied on her longer experience in matters of 
practical judgment. The new glasses were 
pretty, of rather thin glass, attractively shaped 
with a bulging center narrowing toward the 
rim. Felicity, on being pressed by Mrs. Jer- 
rold to give her opinion, had finally said gently: 

“I wonder whether glasses this shape 
wouldn’t be rather hard to wash perfectly clean 
quickly?” 

Mrs. Jerrold had been exasperated, as is oft¬ 
en the way with those who invite suggestions 
and get sensible ones politely made. 

“I couldn’t expect you to know that these 
glasses are the very latest pattern,” she re¬ 
marked with an air of weariness. “But no 
doubt dishwashing is a subject on which you 
know more than I possibly could. I will order 
some other samples of tumblers.” 

Why Mrs. Jerrold should so persistently be 
offensive to Felicity was as much a mystery to 
Aline as the reason why Felicity endured her 
employer’s ways. She had acted quite charac¬ 
teristically over the matter of the tumbler, 
standing there straight and calm, perfectly po¬ 
lite, perfectly cool, alive to every detail of the 
conversation, and yet one might almost have 
said, to look at her, that she was a thousand 
miles away enjoying herself! It had seemed an 
unendurable outrage to Aline that anyone with 
such a remarkable personality as Felicity 




ALINE JUMPS OFF 


67 


should be so abominably treated, and as Fe¬ 
licity now overtook her, looking as sweet, as 
alive, and yet as unruffled as ever, she turned 
on her two large dark eyes full of sympathy 
and vexation. Whereupon Felicity, to Alined 
unutterable amazement, burst out laughing. 

“My dear child,” she cried, “your kind heart 
does you the greatest credit, but don’t get 
worked up just on my account, please! I can 
see you’re thinking of Mrs. Jerrold. After all, 
what she sees fit to do or say isn’t the business 
of anyone in the world except herself, is it?” 

“I should think it was yours, sometimes.” 

“Why should I trouble to criticize her?” 
inquired Felicity tranquilly. “I’m too busy.” 

“You’re busy on her account. She doesn’t 
deserve to have you! ’ ’ 

“Aline dear, don’t be silly. I’m busy on my 
own account quite as well as hers. I have my 
own way to make.” 

“You’re making it,” admitted Aline admir¬ 
ingly. 

“Now what would you think of me if I said I 
had learned a great deal about how to make it 
from Mrs. Jerrold? She has a large grasp on 
things, you know. I’d never stay where I 
couldn’t learn. Why should I care about her— 
er—eccentricities ? Why, I have never let my¬ 
self get angry with her except once, and that 
time I learned the most important thing I 
know.” 




68 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


4 4 What happened ?’ ’ Felicity ’s open manner 
invited the question. 

4 4 It was shortly after she started her busi¬ 
ness, and several of her friends came to visit 
the Golden Samovar. She pointed out all its 
striking features, and among them, it appeared, 
was myself, for she unfortunately whispered— 
a long way off, I could never have heard her if 
she had spoken instead: 4 Miss Hull’s history’s 
so interesting, too.’ Sounds like a leaky radia¬ 
tor the day the janitor starts the furnace, 
doesn’t it?” 

44 Felicity! How can you laugh? I think it 
was simply shocking.” 

44 I did feel resentful,” admitted Felicity 
calmly, 4 4 but I realized then that never, never 
could people respect me for anything but my¬ 
self, for I had nothing else. You’ve heard all 
about me, I’m sure—everybody has. So that is 
why I am making every effort to succeed prop¬ 
erly in business. I know I have ability enough 
to be somebody there, so what does it matter to 
me what kind of manners other people have if 
I’m learning and advancing? Of course,” 
chuckled Felicity, 44 they often amuse me!” 

Felicity’s home was a small brown frame 
house set two blocks back from the river, on 
the corner of a very quiet street. No one was 
at home, yet the house gave a good idea of the 
people who owned it, as homes so often do. 
Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, whom Felicity called 




ALINE JUMPS OFF 


69 


“Uncle Fred” and “Aunt Mary,” were evi¬ 
dently plain, home-loving people of small means 
and gay taste, for the rather humbly furnished 
little parlor in which Aline awaited her friend 
a few moments was neatly arranged and care¬ 
fully decorated with many quaint ornaments, 
such as crayon portraits of all the Talbot con¬ 
nection, blue and gilt and hand-painted vases 
and plates on the mantel and the little piano, 
drawn-work tidies on the backs of chairs and 
the fronts of sofa-cushions. What caught 
Alined eye particularly, though, was a small 
picture placed directly on the front of the 
mantelpiece over the hearth. It was only a 
cheap little chromo, depicting a sailing vessel 
tied up at its moorings, in size perhaps five 
inches square, but the frame was very attract¬ 
ive. It was beautifully carved wood, with flat 
pieces of ivory set across each corner, the one 
on the upper right-hand side being rendered 
particularly striking by its background, a gay 
green acorn. 

“Come along now and take your lesson!” 
cried Felicity at last, bounding into the sitting- 
room with a big apron on and another in her 
hand for Aline. “So you’ve already noticed 
my wonderful picture-frame. Don’t apologize, 
for I put it there to show off, and I was going 
to make you look at it later. Everybody ad¬ 
mires it. Those white things are whales ’ teeth, 
Aline. The picture was my father’s—see, here’s 





70 LINGEK-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


his name on the back, ‘ Thomas Hull . 9 It was a 
toy of his when he was little, and I remember 
his telling me that he didn’t have nearly so 
many toys as he could give me, so likely that’s 
why he kept it so long.” 

“It’s very pretty, just what a child would 
fancy. ’ ’ 

“It’s all I have that belonged to father except 
a small tool-kit he brought here,” continued 
Felicity, as the two girls entered the kitchen 
and set to work on the delectable salad-dress¬ 
ing. “It’s a lot of comfort to me to have those 
things. Some people have nothing at all, you 
know.” 

Aline was deeply touched. She wielded her 
spoon in silence for a moment, then with sud¬ 
den resolve said: 

“Felicity”—she hesitated. 

“What, Aline?” 

“You made a reference to your not knowing 
much about your family. I suppose you’d like 
to.” Possibly this approach was clumsy, but 
after all, could it have been easily made very 
graceful? Felicity, entirely unused to much 
consideration, was pleased at Aline’s show of 
interest. 

“Of course, very much. I used to want to, 
even more, when I was your age, and though 
now I know it’s more important what you are 
than who you are, I wish I knew just the same. 
You see, my father brought me here when I was 





ALINE JUMPS OFF 


71 


six. He told Uncle Fred and Annt Mary that 
he had come from Philadelphia to get a special 
position waiting for him in Brooklyn. He was 
seized with a heart attack a few hours after¬ 
wards, became unconscious, and died. My 
guardians—who have been better to me, ever 
since, I really believe, than most parents are 
to their own children!—thought he looked about 
fifty-four or -five. He told them I was his only 
child, and that my mother had died a few 
months before, that he had been poor and 
worked hard and had lots of trouble, but he had 
always believed that some day his luck would 
turn. I remember him pretty well, and my 
mother faintly, but I don’t know any other 
facts, Aline, besides what you know now about 
my family or myself.” 

“I think I know something else,” said Aline 
boldly. 

“ Tout" 

“It’s only my guess, but I think it’s a good 
guess. It’s just my thoughts. I never said a 
word to anyone about it yet . 9 9 

“Do tell me!” 

“I made up my mind one day that your people 
must have been New Englanders.” 

“Oh, why? And what day was that?” 
Felicity’s eyes twinkled, but her tone was full 
of respectful curiosity. 

“It was the day the gas-meter burst and the 
cook was overcome, and all the luncheon got 




72 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


scorched at a quarter past eleven—and you, 
Felicity, plugged up the meter with soap and 
invented this new dressing for a special salad, 
and charged extra for it! I just thought to my¬ 
self, ‘Of all the Yankee ingenuity!’—and then 
everything I’d ever noticed about you burst on 
me at once. I’ve spent two vacations in Ver¬ 
mont, and you are lots like the people up there. 
You’re tall and loose-jointed and you move just 
the way they do, fast and yet without hurrying, 
and you’re never excited or upset, and you’re 
always looking ahead, and seeing the funny 
side of things. And then right from the first 
I’ve thought about your name. Felicity— 
surely that’s a New England name.” 

Aline’s disconnected sentences showed good 
observation. She had recognized, without be¬ 
ing able to express it very well, the look of 
race which distinguished Felicity, that charac¬ 
teristic appearance of belonging to some spe¬ 
cial country or section of a country which is to 
be noted in any clear-cut human type. Felicity 
was not only touched, she was impressed. 

“Aline dear, it’s very kind of you to care 
enough to think of all those things, and pretty 
clever, too, I must say. As for my name, I 
remember other children laughing at it one day, 
and to comfort me, my father told me I had 
been named after his mother, because she and I 
had both meant to him so much of what the 
name signifies: ‘happiness,’ you know. What 



ALINE JUMPS OFF 


73 


he said made a deep impression on me, tiny as 
I was. I really think it always influenced me 
to try to be worthy of the name. And now, to 
think that that queer old-fashioned name should 
start you on the track of finding out where I 
came from! You talk very convincingly about 
New England—I wonder if I don’t belong 
somewhere after all! Only, New England’s a 
pretty big place, if you’re thinking of search¬ 
ing the whole of it. ’ ’ 

“Fudge! This is what comes of living in 
Brooklyn!” scoffed Aline brazenly, in high 
spirits over Felicity’s reception of her theories. 
“New England’s not really very big, Felicity.” 

“Very well, Native Manhattan Islander, go 
and ask all the Hulls in New England if they’re 
related to me! Aline, I really am deeply ap¬ 
preciative of your interest. No one else ever 
showed that sort of interest in me before.” 

It was on the tip of Aline’s tongue to men¬ 
tion the interest of the Linger-Nots, but she 
wisely thought better of doing so. From one 
person, interest might seem flattering, but from 
nine it might seem more like curiosity, even if 
it wasn’t. 

“I’ll tell the girls first what Felicity thinks 
of my ideas,” Aline thought quickly to herself, 
“and then we can talk over the new facts I’ve 
found out to-day, and see if we can make any¬ 
thing more out of them, for evidently she’d wel¬ 
come any more information. But it ought to 




74 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


be real facts, not just opinions. Wouldn’t it 
be wonderful to surprise her with a real dis¬ 
covery !” 

So she only replied demurely: ‘ 1 Well, since 
you like my ideas so much I’ll tell you some 
more if I ever get any! And I’m much obliged 
for your appreciation. I don’t believe every¬ 
body would think I’d made much of a begin¬ 
ning. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But I do! ” cried Felicity stoutly. 11 You’ve 
always got to jump off somewhere, and often 
that’s the really hard thing to do. It’s usually 
easier to keep going than it is to start.” 

“I hope that’ll be the case this time! Look, 
Felicity, I’ve made enough salad dressing to 
feed an army.” 

“Then let’s put it into a jar for you to take 
home. And now, wouldn’t you like to go out 
and take a look at downtown New York from 
the Heights? It’s worth while doing.” 

So Aline strolled with Felicity over to the 
wall bordering a little park on the very summit 
of Brooklyn Heights, past the fine homes with 
grounds stretching along the riverside, and saw, 
grouped together in all their magnificence, the 
familiar points of interest she saw separately 
on her daily trips downtown. Together they 
had a new effect of splendor and interest, those 
tall buildings, great bridges, and the wide 
harbor, golden in the fading sunlight. 




ALINE JUMPS OFF 


75 


c 1 See if you can locate Wall Street,” sug¬ 
gested Felicity. 

Aline looked carefully at the opposite shore, 
first too far uptown, then too far down, but at 
last she spied the now very tiny street strag¬ 
gling down the hill. 

“There it is,” she cried, “just where that big 
steamer is docked!” 

“That belongs to a Havana line. The ships 
at that dock are old friends of mine. I keep 
track of their sailings and arrivals the year 
round. I’ve done it ever since I was a little 
girl.” 




CHAPTEE VI 


CLIPPER-CARDS 

H ELENA had left the Golden Samovar 
a few minutes earlier than Aline that 
Saturday afternoon, also considerably 
incensed by Mrs. Jerrold’s attitude toward Fe¬ 
licity, but, as was her nature, inclined to endure 
another person’s troubles with more philosophy 
than Aline. She would have been delighted to 
help Felicity, and sincerely hoped to be able to 
some time, but there could be nothing helpful 
in getting excited. It was much better, accord¬ 
ing to Helena’s views, to keep one’s poise, and 
as hers was somewhat jarred, she decided to 
restore it by making herself a present of some¬ 
thing she didn’t need. 

The efficacy of this treatment in such a case 
has never been denied, and Helena found that 
the purchase of two pairs of biscuit-colored silk 
stockings at an alluring little specialty shop 
tucked between a cable-office and a bank had a 
most soothing effect on her nerves. So had the 
fresh air of the mild March afternoon, and the 
skyscrapers, purple in the shadows below and 
with towers glittering white in the sunshine 

76 


CLIPPER-CARDS 


77 


above, charmed her with their beauty. There 
was nothing to call her home immediately. Why 
not take a walk downtown, and do some ex¬ 
ploring? Down Wall Street, then, Helena 
turned and strolled thoughtfully toward the 
river at the foot of the hill. 

Passing on far down the street that had once 
been marked only by a twelve-foot barrier 
against marauding Indians, Helena soon found, 
with all the pleasure of new discovery, that in 
lower Wall Street skyscrapers diminished, 
their places being taken largely by old-fash¬ 
ioned five- or six-story brick buildings, while 
the street itself spread gradually out from side 
to side and commanded an enticing view of the 
river and stately Brooklyn Heights opposite. 
The buildings along the street had low iron 
stoops, two or three steps high, and on one of 
these, a few doors from the corner, stood a 
man tossing in a wide pan freshly roasted 
samples of coffee which filled the air with a 
delicious smell. “Coffee,” “Tea,” “Sugar,” 
“Molasses,” read the signs in windows of of¬ 
fices almost on a level with the pavement. 
Helena had never imagined a homelike, neigh¬ 
borly colony of business houses like this so near 
the rush and noise of Broad and the adjacent 
streets just up the hill, and was quite delighted 
with herself for discovering them. She was 
still more pleased on seeing, moored directly 
at the foot of the street, a great steamer, which 




78 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


had evidently just arrived from Cuba, to judge 
by the flag on the stern. Probably it had 
brought up a sugar cargo. What else was there 
along the wide street that ran beside the river, 
down to the bay? Helena turned the comer, 
eager to see. 

But the next moment footsteps were following 
hers, and a clear, low-pitched voice called out: 

1 ‘Excuse me, please!” 

Turning defensively, Helena recognized, a 
little distance behind her, Andrew Burchard, 
who had frequently lunched at the Golden Sam¬ 
ovar since the striking occasion when she made 
his acquaintance, though she had seldom more 
than spoken to him since. 

“Say,” inquired Andrew politely but firmly, 
and advancing in the same manner, “you’re not 
going to walk down South Street, are you?” 

“I was. Why shouldn’t I?” 

“Well, you’re alone and it’s Saturday after¬ 
noon, when most people have gone home, and 
this is a slightly rough neighborhood. ’ ’ As An¬ 
drew spoke, three undoubtedly picturesque but 
decidedly foreign-looking sailors with earrings 
and long ribbons dangling from their caps 
came out of a seamen’s outfitting shop just 
down the street. “Wouldn’t you as leave go 
along some other street?” 

1 ‘ Oh, ’ ’ cried Helena, not too grateful at hav¬ 
ing her discoveries balked, even properly, “you 
think I’m ‘new’!” 




CLIPPER-CARDS 


79 


“I wouldn’t say so for the world!” declared 
Andrew with a disarming smile. 

“Well, I won’t walk here if I really ought not 
to, of course. But I came down Wall Street, 
and didn’t know it wasn’t all right here too, 
because I’m rather n—I’m not acquainted much 
in the neighborhood, ’ ’ corrected Helena hastily 
but with great dignity. Not a muscle moved in 
Andrew’s face. She turned to retrace her 
steps. “I’m sorry, it’s so interesting here 
along the waterfront.” 

“Do you like it?” asked Andrew, reflecting 
her enthusiasm. “Why, if you’ll let me, I’ll 
walk along South Street with you to whatever 
street you’re bound for. I just saw you out of 
our office window as I was about to leave, as 
you were turning the corner, and I hoped you 
wouldn’t mind my speaking to you.” 

“It was kind of you,” said Helena, turning 
south again gladly, and regretting her previous 
lack of appreciation. “I’m just wandering 
along to find the subway. Is your office in one 
of those nice old buildings on lower Wall 
Street?” 

“Yes, my old tea and coffee firm’s been there 
since Hendrik Hudson passed quarantine, I 
guess. How do you like it downtown?” 

Helena considered, as they proceeded down 
the wide street, lined with tall warehouses on 
one side, ship chandleries filled with cordage, 
machinery, pipes, oils, and long piers stretch- 




80 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


ing far out into the water on the other, where 
were tied ships from Spain, Porto Rico, and the 
Gulf ports. Finally she tore herself long 
enough from the charm of her surroundings to 
answer: 

“I love downtown! And I’m glad to do my 
work, of course. Felicity Hull has always made 
it so pleasant. So I suppose I ought to say I 
like it, too.” 

“You oughtn’t to say so unless it’s true,” 
said Andrew solemnly. Helena giggled. 

“I do like it. I only mean I couldn’t work 
forever at the Golden Samovar the way Felicity 
seems to want to, though why she does-” 

It slipped out before Helena could stop it. 
She had promised herself never to gossip about 
her work, but the scene of the early afternoon 
still lingered ineffaceably in her mind. How¬ 
ever, Andrew merely turned his solemn black- 
rimmed spectacles on her, and said: 

“Here’s a real Wall Street tip: put your 
money on Felicity. ’ ’ 

Helena laughed outright. How cleverly he 
had conveyed that he had heard all about Mrs. 
Jerrold! He continued: 

“I expect what you want to do, now, is to 
study singing.” 

“Why, exactly!” cried Helena, much pleased. 
“I’m going to study it, and nobody is going to 
stop me, either.” 

“I expect they’d be treated very rough if 





CLIPPER-CARDS 


81 


they did,” said Andrew, amused but sympa¬ 
thetic. 

“Pm working this way just until my mother 
comes home from the South. She’s convales¬ 
cing from a severe illness. She wants me to 
start studying as soon as possible. But I want 
very much to graduate from school next June, 
and I couldn’t have afforded to without doing 
some work, you see, ’ ’ explained Helena. Then, 
wishing to introduce some subject that would 
return Andrew’s flattering approval of her de¬ 
termination, she said: “How does it happen 
that you’re not at an auction this afternoon?” 

“Oh, this afternoon I’m broke,” explained 
Andrew the thrifty, entirely without embar¬ 
rassment. “I’m cherishing the dreams of the 
past, though.” He drew a package from his 
pocket. “If you like South Street now, with 
all these steamers and warehouses and docks, 
maybe you’d like to see what it was like sev¬ 
enty years ago. These are a lot of old adver¬ 
tisements I bought at a sale of prints a little 
while ago. You know I’m a commercial artist, 
that’s why I’m interested in these.” 

He slipped an elastic off the package, and 
handed Helena a large number of the most 
garishly colored cards she had ever seen, about 
five by seven inches in size. She recalled his 
mention of them to Felicity, and his employer’s 
interest in them. 

“I thought I was never going to pry my boss 




82 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


loose from said Andrew. ‘ ‘He wanted 

to bny them from me for his collection of clip¬ 
per-cards.” 

“Of—what?” asked Helena, puzzled. 

“Clipper-cards—advertisements of Califor¬ 
nia clippers—they were ships, you know, big 
sailing-vessels that used to sail to California in 
the gold-mining days with the miners and their 
outfits. They sailed right from this point”— 
Andrew indicated the length of South Street— 
“whole fleets of ’em! They were moored right 
along here by the warehouses, and their long 
bowsprits went half-way across the street.” 

“What a sight! And what wonderful names 
they had,” cried Helena, much interested, turn¬ 
ing over the cards. “ ‘Neptune’s Car’—‘The 
Challenge ’—‘ The Flying Cloud ’—and what gay 
pictures! Here’s Neptune with his sea-horses 
driving along the top of the ocean, and here’s 
an Indian in full war-paint and a sunset at sea. ’ ’ 

“That coloring is what interested me in the 
cards,” explained Andrew enthusiastically. 
‘ ‘ They say color work in advertising was used 
the first time on clipper-cards, isn’t that curi¬ 
ous? These things were a tremendous novelty 
when they were first used. You see they all are 
advertisements for freight, and the owners of 
the ships used to distribute them to shippers 
right after the ship came in and was ready to 
load for a return trip. They made a big hit, 
and there was a great craze for collecting them. 




CLIPPER-CARDS 


83 


Probably I’ve got bold of somebody’s old col¬ 
lection, for I got forty cards, all different, for 
two dollars and a half.” 

“They are awfully interesting! Goodness, 
advertisers were proud of themselves in those 
days, too, weren’t they?” said Helena, with a 
mischievous smile. “Listen to this!” The an¬ 
nouncement she read was printed in the upper 
right-hand corner of one of the cards, and was 
typical of all of them: 


Now Rapidly Loading at Her Pier, 

For Immediate Despatch, 

The Elegant and Commodious 
Far-Famed Al Clipper-Ship 

WESTERN COMET 

! ! ! 2000 Tons ! ! ! 

No Delay! No Delay! 

SAN FRANCISCO AND THE GOLD 
FIELDS IN 97 DAYS ! / 


“Ninety-seven days! Mercy, how slow!” 
cried up-to-date Helena. But Andrew whistled. 

“Slow? Three months or so all the way 
’round Cape Horn? Pretty good, I think! 
Those clippers often sailed three to four hun- 





84 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


dred miles a day. You see, they were specially 
built for speed—that’s why they called them 
‘ clippers,’ because they went at such a clip. 
The first ones were built about 1840, and were 
designed especially to bring tea here from 
China in less than four months, because a longer 
trip than that made a cargo spoil. Then in the 
gold-rush days, the big California clippers were 
designed to get the miners and their supplies 
to the gold fields fast.” 

“How do you know such a lot about them?” 
asked Helena admiringly, returning the cards 
with some reluctance, as South Street began 
to turn toward Battery Park and the subway 
station. 

“Because a little while ago,” explained An¬ 
drew, rather flattered but feeling called on also 
to give a slight groan of remonstrance, “I had 
to do a lot of designs for a series of tea ads, 
beginning with our famous tea-party in 1773. 
It was some work! But of course I took in the 
tea-clippers, and then I got interested in the 
big California clippers because they were such 
fine specimens of ship architecture. I guess 
I’ve bored you to death.” 

“Indeed, you haven’t,” replied Helena sin¬ 
cerely, “I’m saving up every word you’ve said 
to tell my little brother Gordon. He’s got ac¬ 
quainted with an old sailor who is teaching him 
to carve, and talks about nothing but ships from 
morning to night. I am not much of an author- 




CLIPPER-CARDS 


85 


ity on that subject, but I shall save all this up 
to tell him just before I go away to Fair Valley 
next month, so he ’ll have something interesting 
to think about while I’m away.” 

“Fair Valley? Are you going all the way out 
to California?” asked Andrew in surprise. 

“Why, no, Fair Valley’s a tiny little place 
up in Massachusetts,” returned Helena, equally 
astonished. “They have a famous pageant 
there this year, a historic celebration, you 
know. I’m just going up there for a short 
visit, with a lot of other girls, to see the pageant. 
I didn’t know there was a Fair Valley in Cali¬ 
fornia. ’ ’ 

“Haven’t you ever eaten Fair Valley or¬ 
anges?” 

“Why, of course. How stupid of me! I had 
one for breakfast this morning. I never thought 
of connecting the two places, though I know the 
California one is a big fruit-growing center.” 

“Neither did I. But I guess the reason was 
that I never heard about the one where you say 
they have the pageant! I always was densely 
ignorant. ’ 9 

“If you hadn’t said so, I should never have 
thought so!” laughed Helena, slowing down 
her pace as the subway station at last appeared 
directly before them. “I’m so much obliged to 
you for helping me to have my walk after all. 
I should have surely got discouraged and 
turned back before long if I’d been alone.” 




86 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


1 i There’s a little too much picturesque hu¬ 
manity on South Street, perhaps, but that’s its 
only drawback. Isn’t it just great here ! 9 9 

As he spoke, Andrew gazed across Battery 
Park to the harbor bathed in the golden light 
of the bright afternoon, full of ships bound in 
every direction. Helena enjoyed the sight 
equally, for it was the worthy destination of 
her own picturesque and beloved East River. 

“Good-by, then,” she said, finally turning 
from the splendid sight. 

“ I’ll see you next week at the Folding Scim¬ 
itar,” promised Andrew, taking his leave. 

A profitable afternoon, thought Helena, as 
she whirled uptown. Silk stockings and a pri¬ 
vate voyage of discovery, and a thrilling walk! 
And Andrew somehow had improved since the 
day she had spilled the coffee on his overcoat. 
He had turned out to be a person of judgment 
(see Mrs. Jerrold versus Felicity) and of in¬ 
formation (see everything else). Felicity had 
been right: Andrew was certainly clever enough 
to promise well for the future. And besides 
this, he could show himself to be a good friend. 




CHAPTER VII 

A. FATEFUL FETE 

T HERE! That’s the last, and they all 
look splendid, don’t they?” cried Dor¬ 
othy, fitting the hook of a large yellow 
Chinese lantern adorned with a scarlet dragon 
on one of the numerous wires that were 
stretched across Straiton Court. 

She was standing on the top of a tall ladder, 
at whose foot were Evelyn and Priscilla, who 
had been fitting candles into the lanterns and 
handing them up to Dorothy. Scattered about 
the court were groups of busy young people 
putting the final touches on the preparations 
for the spring fete, an annual event in Straiton 
Court for the benefit of the garden, which was. 
attended by everyone in the neighborhood. 

Aline, to whom Dorothy had called out her 
question as she entered the court, looked up ad¬ 
miringly. 

“Yes, everything looks beautiful. I think 
this will be the most unusual fete we’ve ever 
87 


88 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


had,” she replied warmly, sitting down on her 
own steps to view the decorations. It was late 
in the afternoon, and, as Aline’s armful of 
books attested, she had just come from school. 

“I hope it’ll be the most profitable fete we’ve 
ever had,’ 9 returned Dorothy with a significant 
giggle. “Oh, I forgot. But no one heard me, 
Priscilla, so don’t take on so hard—you’re 
laughing yourself, anyhow. And you know per¬ 
fectly well that this is a fateful fete for us—as 
the poem puts it: 1 Who knows what somber 
fate stands near us nowV ” 

“Cheer up, Aline,” urged Evelyn, noting 
Aline’s drooping expression as Dorothy, for 
the first time on record, made a literary quota¬ 
tion. “That’s only the first line. The next 
one is: ‘What rich-robed destiny no eye can 
scan?’ Isn’t that better?” 

“Not if no eye can’t scan it,” suggested 
Aline, slightly tangled in her negatives but evi¬ 
dently clear in her thoughts. 

Indeed, she thought Evelyn’s attempt at con¬ 
solation singularly inept, for during the few 
weeks that had passed since her visit to Fe¬ 
licity, no further ideas had come to the assist¬ 
ance of the eager would-be investigators of a 
hidden past. Aline’s theory of Felicity’s New 
England origin and Felicity’s curious colored 
picture, in its interesting frame, were still the 
only two sources of information available, and 
no eye could scan them any further. Possibly, 




A FATEFUL FETE 


89 


indeed, the idea of trying to trace her origin 
might have been reluctantly abandoned as too 
difficult, if a more immediately pressing diffi¬ 
culty had not appeared for the girls to solve. 

After a vast amount of figuring, Dorothy had 
announced that everyone must put eighty-two 
cents a week into The Box, and then all would 
be safe for Fair Valley. Several weeks of in¬ 
dustrious attention to clippings, and library 
books, and digging, and Jo and Herk (Vir¬ 
ginia’s charges, illustriously christened Joan 
and Herkimer), and of careful saving on the 
part of Aline and Helena, had filled the famous 
receptacle of the Travel Fund to capacity. In¬ 
deed, the money had now been transferred to a 
savings bank where weekly deposits were made, 
but even so it had been discovered one day, to 
the universal horror of all the Linger-Nots, 
that there would not be enough to meet de¬ 
mands. Miss Langdon had been invited to ac¬ 
company the girls to the Fair Valley pageant, 
had accepted with enthusiasm, and her expenses 
had been entirely overlooked! This disastrous 
discovery was made one week before the date 
of the Straiton Court festival, and it had been 
Evelyn’s ingenious brain which had conceived 
a scheme calculated to make up the deficit with¬ 
out having to acknowledge the awful oversight. 

4 ‘How are the surprises coming along?” 
Aline asked, as the three workers finished their 
task and prepared to leave the Court. 




90 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“They’re splendid!” cried Priscilla enthusi¬ 
astically. 

“Oh, I hope so! It was an awful responsi¬ 
bility to borrow five whole dollars out of The 
Box,” sighed Evelyn. 

‘ ‘ What did you get with it ? ” Aline had been 
busy with examinations as well as business, 
and was not posted on the latest details of the 
club news. 

“Priscilla and I took it to the five-and-ten- 
cent store and bought all sorts of 5 for 5 cents 
and 5 cents a dozen things—like little dolls and 
baskets and toys and lead pencils and postal- 
cards. Muriel and Virginia and Joyce have 
been working so hard, dressing the dolls and 
putting candy in the baskets and sharpening 
the pencils, and then doing everything up in 
fancy surprise packages! We have over two 
hundred to sell between dances. Girls, if we 
don’t sell them we’ll be five dollars out besides 
not having—you know, what we forgot about! ’ ’ 

“And if we do, we’ll be fifteen dollars in,” 
said Dorothy, refusing to consider any finan¬ 
cial calamity possible. “People will buy them 
all right—they like to be surprised, and nobody 
will be fooled by our packets. Wasn’t it fine 
of the fete committee to let us keep three-quar¬ 
ters of the proceeds from the packages ‘for our 
treasury’ as Priscilla so truthfully and tact¬ 
fully put it to them, because they said we had 




A FATEFUL FETE 


91 


been public benefactors so long? Now, the 
thing for us to do is to go home and get rested 
and not worry about anything. Then our fate 
will be happy! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘Dorothy, I think your brain needs a rest,” 
said Priscilla meaningly. 

“ Good-by, then! Oh, wait a minute! Joyce, 
I’m going to be cashier to-night, and I’ll need 
a money-box. You have that wooden one of 
Muriel’s still, haven’t you? Then please bring 
it over for me to use.” 

A few hours later all the work that had been 
put into the neighborhood festival was making 
a rich return. Straiton Court itself, tempo¬ 
rarily guarded by a picturesque green-trellised 
fence and gateway, was bright with the light 
from the innumerable splendid Chinese lan¬ 
terns and the seven shafts of light shining out 
from the seven doors of the houses surrounding 
the Court. A band was playing its merriest, 
and the whole Court seemed filled with dancers, 
for the starlit spring evening was delightfully 
warm. The seven bright doorways were en¬ 
trances to seven special attractions. No. 1 
Straiton Court housed refreshment booths. 
No. 2, Dorothy’s house, showed a film in colors, 
operated by her twin, Paul, and some of his 
friends, while the rest of the local young mas¬ 
culine talent held forth next door at No. 3 in a 
circus. No. 4 had a sale of useful articles, in 
No. 5 was a charming collection of dolls just 




92 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


purchased by the Jaffrey House museum, lent 
for the evening, and showing how little girls, 
many of whom had afterwards become famous 
ladies of America, had dressed their families 
during a century and a half past. No. 6 pleased 
the vain, for there silhouettes were flatteringly 
cut out, and No. 7, the Gaines house, had a 
soda fountain in the flag-decorated dining¬ 
room, where the Linger-Nots served. 

It was in operation only between dances, and 
that accounted for the fact that at the present 
moment nine girls in white peasant blouses, red 
skirts, blue aprons, and black velvet headbands 
trimmed with big red silk rosettes were sitting 
by Aline’s dining-room window, watching the 
gay scene in the Court. 

In a moment a merry little figure in a red and 
white clown’s costume rushed in, swinging an 
empty tray in one hand. It was Gordon Haw¬ 
thorne, who had attached himself to the circus 
where his friend the versatile Roger Suther¬ 
land acted as the hind legs of an elephant. Dur¬ 
ing the intervals between circus performances, 
Gordon had also agreed to help his sister and 
her friends with the sale of their surprise 
packages. 

‘‘ Say, Helena,” he cried breathlessly, “I’ve 
sold twenty packages and here’s the money! 
Give me some more to take out.” 

“The box is getting full again,” announced 
Dorothy placidly. “Even if we shouldn’t sell 




A FATEFUL FETE 


93 


all the packages, Evelyn, the five dollars you 
borrowed is safe, and we must have five more 
already.’’ She shook the contents of the box, 
and peered at it calculatingly. 

“Oh, by the way,” said Aline, “you said, 
Muriel, that you had pasted Eoger’s restoration 
of your card that was burned up that day after 
New Year’s on the end of the box. Do let me 
see it. Do you know, I’m the only person here 
who never has.” 

“No, I haven’t either,” said Helena. 

“That’s not so remarkable,” observed Mu¬ 
riel, “for of course Eoger forgot to give it 
back to me for nearly a month, the way boys 
always do, and then we soon got so much money 
that we stopped using the box to keep it in.” 
She passed the box up to Aline as Dorothy 
handed it to her, and went on: “Of course the 
picture’s just a black and white outline now, 
but still, it’s very appropriate to the Travel 
Fund. Aline, whatever is the matter?” 

Aline, having turned the end with the resto¬ 
ration pasted on it towards her, sat as though 
glued to her chair, her eyes staring and fas¬ 
tened immovably on the picture. 

“What’s the matter, Aline?” echoed Helena, 
who was seated on Aline’s other side. She 
leaned over and looked anxiously at the box 
herself. Immediately her own expression 
changed into one of amazement. 




r 94 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“What is the matter, girls?” cried Priscilla 
distractedly. 

Aline was the first to speak. 

“This card Roger restored,” she said slowly, 
“has the same picture on it as is in that carved 
frame of Felicity HulPs! I couldn’t believe it 
was true at first. But it is.” 

“Why, Aline,” said Muriel doubtfully, “can 
you be sure? You said Felicity’s picture was 
so bright-colored. This one’s just black and 
white outline, and not so very clear, at that.” 

“It is the same picture,” replied Aline, with 
growing confidence. “I knew it by the acorn. 
That’s on the same position on both cards, 
above this picture of the dock. I recognized 
the shape at once.” 

“But you said Felicity’s was the picture of a 
ship,” said Joyce. 

“It is. But the ship is to the left-hand side 
of this picture of the dock, with the acorn above. 
Look here! The left-hand edge of this picture 
ends very abruptly, doesn’t it? I think it’s 
been trimmed off for some reason or other. 
Maybe it got worn and ragged. At all events, 
it seems to me that perhaps the ship was cut 
off this card. ’ ’ 

“I’m sure of it,” said Helena quietly. 

“Why, how can you know about it?” asked 
Rose. By this time the fete was almost for¬ 
gotten. The girls were now grouped around the 
box under the lamp on the cashier’s table. 




A FATEFUL FETE 


95 


“I’ll tell you how!” said Helena laughing, 
but rather excited. She pointed to a long 
pointed black line which stretched out in the 
picture over the dock. “That’s the long bow¬ 
sprit of a sailing-ship, isn’t it, tied up at the 
pier?” 

“How awfully curious that Muriel and Fe¬ 
licity should have the same card!” cried Vir¬ 
ginia. “Now if they matched, it would be just 
like a story, but they don’t. They must be 
duplicates. Did you ever hear of such a thing?” 

“I don’t believe that is so strange as it 
seems.” Helena again spoke very quietly, and 
the girls gave her close attention. “Those two 
cards must be old clipper-cards.” 

“Say it in English, please!” begged Vir¬ 
ginia. 

“A clipper-card,” smiled Helena, “was an 
advertisement of one of the old sailing vessels 
called clipper-ships, that went out to California 
in the fifties. You remember my telling you 
how I met that boy, Andrew Burchard, whom 
Felicity knows, on South Street that Saturday 
afternoon? Well, he had a lot of cards very 
s imi lar to these which he had bought at an auc¬ 
tion because he was interested in old advertise¬ 
ments. He showed them to me, and told me all 
about the old clippers with the long bowsprits 
that were moored on South Street, and he said 
that in those days people had a craze for mak- 




96 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


ing collections of those colored cards, so I don’t 
think it ’s so strange that two duplicates of one 
card should have turned up, do you ? ’ 9 

“I don’t believe it is, in that case,” agreed 
Rose. ‘ 4 Aline, what are you doing now?” 

“Trying to read this printing in the right- 
hand corner, on the right-hand side of the 
acorn,’ 9 murmured Aline, whose eyes were very 
close to the dim print under the lamplight. 
“Wait—I can get it in a minute.” 

“I saw that,” said Helena, “and that made 
me sure the card was a clipper-card.” 

“Here it is,” said Aline finally, “but this 
part isn’t on Felicity’s card at all.” She read 
aloud the following notice: 


89 DAYS 

TO SAN FRANCISCO AND THE 
GOLD FIELDS 

The Pride of the Port of New Yorkl 
The Elegant A1 Clipper-Ship 
OCEAN MONARCH 
Built throughout of live oak. The best 
ship loading. Will fill up in a few days. 
Now at Pier 19, East River. 

Holds the 1853 West-Bound Record! 

No delay. Quick despatch. 





A FATEFUL FETE 


97 


“All those clipper-cards I saw had adver¬ 
tisements worded after that style,’’ said Hel¬ 
ena. 

“Did they, really? Then we’ve found out 
something definite at last!” cried Aline exult- 
ingly. “That is, Felicity Hull owns a clipper- 
card, an advertisement in color, of the clipper- 
ship Ocean Monarch, dated 1853! It was her 
father’s, and he always kept it carefully. 
Now-” 

“Why is it that she owns a clipper-card?” 
suggested Helena. 

“Why should it always have been pre¬ 
served?” inquired Evelyn. 

“Yes, and especially in that curious frame 
you described, Aline?” queried Priscilla. “I’ve 
always wondered about that frame. It was 
carved, you said, and ornamented with whales’ 
teeth. Do you think her father could have been 
a sailor, and kept a picture of his own ship?” 

“No,” replied Aline, “I did think of that for 
about one second, but I gave the idea right up 
and never mentioned it, because, you see, he 
left a tool-kit that he was carrying around with 
him. It seemed to me more likely that he was 
some sort of mechanic. Anyway, he evidently 
took a great deal of care of Felicity, because she 
remembers him so well. So he couldn’t have 
been going off to sea all the time. ’ ’ 

“And anyway, that couldn’t be a picture of 
his ship, even if he was a sailor,” cried Dor- 




98 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


othy, who had been figuring furiously for sev¬ 
eral minutes on some nice fresh pages of her 
account book. “Look here, girls. If, as Felicity 
told Aline, her father appeared to be fifty-four 
or so when he died, fifteen years ago, he would 
now be sixty-nine if he were living, so he could 
have been only two years old in 1853. He never 
kept that card himself in the first place, he was 
too little. y ? 

“Well, what does it matter? Somebody kept 
it for him,” retorted Aline. “You can’t get 
away from that! Anyway, the real point is, 
that we’ve discovered that this picture of 
Felicity’s is an 1853 clipper-ship.” 

“Are you going to tell her?” demanded Vir¬ 
ginia eagerly. 

Aline hesitated. 

“I should like to, but I don’t know-” 

“No, Aline, don’t do it right away.” Pris¬ 
cilla spoke cautiously. 11 She has known nothing 
about the picture for so long, a little while 
longer will make no difference to her. And 
really, don’t you think we ought to think over 
and talk over our new ideas a little more thor¬ 
oughly? There may be more information we 
can find than we’ve had time to think of in these 
few minutes, and then we ought to get-” 

“All aboard for Fair Vallee—ee!” shouted 
Gordon suddenly beneath the window, arriving 
with a second empty tray. “Sold out again— 
here’s your money! Say, the dance has stopped, 




A FATEFUL FETE 


99 


do you know it ? And they had two extras, too. 
There are about twenty people waiting at your 
soda fountain!” 

‘ 4 Good gracious, I never noticed them com¬ 
ing in!’ ’ cried Priscilla, leading a rapid charge 
behind the counter. Dorothy had just time for 
the triumphant whisper: 

“Who said this fete would be fate-!” 

“ Dorothy ,’ 9 returned Priscilla sternly, 
“aren’t you satisfied that it is? Chocolate ice¬ 
cream cones? Yes, indeed, right here!” 





CHAPTER VIII 


IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 

G ORDON apparently had the gift of 
prophecy, for all the Linger-Nots, ac¬ 
companied by Miss Langdon, not only 
got aboard the train for Fair Valley, hut ar¬ 
rived there in the best of form the Thursday 
evening before Easter. All of them—for Aline 
seemed to have outdone Gordon long ago, and 
understood all mysteries and all knowledge 
when she announced intrepidly, before she had 
so much as set foot inside the Golden Samovar, 
that she was going to Fair Valley. The two 
days before Easter, it seemed, were so quiet in 
Wall Street with the exchanges closed, that 
Mrs. Jerrold had not thought it worth while to 
keep her restaurant open then. So Aline and 
Helena had both bidden farewell for a short 
time to Broad Street and Felicity, and had set 
forth with the other girls, in the highest spirits 
for a complete change from business and mys¬ 
teries. 


100 


IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


101 


“How lovely, how perfectly enchanting it is 
here!” cried Aline shortly before eight o’clock 
the next morning, leaning as far as she dared 
out of the window of the old Rowland House on 
the Fair Valley green. “Helena, do hurry up! 
Aren’t you ever going to be dressed? I can’t 
wait any longer to get outdoors—everything 
smells of lilacs! ’ ’ 

“I guess this will do,” replied Helena, 
scrambling into a new mauve sweater well cal¬ 
culated to make Fair Valley sit up, and brought 
along for that express purpose. “I want to get 
out, too, though it’s pretty nice indoors, I 
think. ’ ’ 

Aline, half-way downstairs by this time, 
agreed heartily. All the girls were more than 
delighted with their accommodations, which 
were certainly unique. Fair Valley was crowded 
for the next day’s pageant, but Miss Langdon’s 
sister had contrived to find places for all ten 
members of the Linger-Not party. She boarded 
with the Misses Rowland, two charming sisters 
who belonged to one of the first families of old 
Fair Valley, and had her studio in the midst 
of the beautiful big garden beside their large 
square white house. This studio had three 
rooms, and housed five people comfortably, so 
here dwelt over the week-end Priscilla and Dor¬ 
othy, Virginia and Muriel and Joyce. To them, 
however, Helena and Aline willingly permitted 
all the delights of sleeping in a studio, for they 




102 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


had a room in the old Rowland House, with a 
wall-paper a hundred and twenty-eight years 
old, depicting scenes in Italy, villas, cathedrals, 
cypresses, and azure skies all complete. Evelyn 
and Rose had had to take a room in the Fair 
Valley Arms, a fine old inn close by, so Miss 
Langdon went to stay there too. 

It had been Priscilla who had got everybody 
assigned satisfactorily, with rival attractions 
distributed so that there could be no heart¬ 
burnings. It was also Priscilla’s very happy 
and sensible idea that Miss Langdon would 
probably enjoy having her meals with her sis¬ 
ter and the Misses Rowland, and as this had 
proved to be the case, the girls had a private 
table in an alcove in the dining-room of the 
staid old Fair Valley Arms. 

Yet outdoors in Fair Valley early on a spring 
morning entirely eclipsed indoors! 

1 ‘Did yon ever see anything so beautiful as 
the way this village is built, all the way around 
the green and then down the one street, with 
the elm-trees?” cried Aline, as she and Helena 
hurried over toward the Arms to breakfast. 
The Arms was directly opposite the green, be¬ 
tween two of the tallest elms, which, eighty or 
ninety feet high at least, stretched their arches 
covered with the new verdure of their two hun¬ 
dredth spring up and down the road as far as 
eye could see. 




IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


103 


“And look, that big long low red building 
must be the famous academy, don’t you think 
so?” said Helena, indicating a structure run¬ 
ning along the north side of the green. “I do 
hope we can go through it, but perhaps we can’t 
if they’re having holidays now.” 

“Oh, they’ll let us—we must see everything,” 
declared Aline. 

After breakfast, to which Priscilla gave quite 
a social atmosphere by sitting with great dig¬ 
nity at the head of the table and distributing 
all dishes with absolute impartiality, and which 
was further glorified by an antique pewter cof¬ 
fee-pot and bright blue glass salt-cellars, Miss 
Langdon appeared and promptly fell in with 
Aline’s proposal that the party must see every¬ 
thing in Fair Valley. 

“Don’t you want to go and see the Miss 
Rowlands’ workshop first?” she proposed. 
“They’ve invited you to come over as soon as 
you like. ’ ’ 

“Did you say their workshop, Miss Lang¬ 
don?” asked Rose, as the girls set out across 
the green on the way back to the Rowland 
House. Some men and boys were already at 
work there arranging the stage for the next 
day’s pageant. “What do they work at?” 

“The whole first floor of their house is a 
workshop where they are keeping alive beauti¬ 
ful old American industries and arts,” ex¬ 
plained Miss Langdon. 




104 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


They entered the beautiful carved and pan¬ 
eled doorway of the Rowland House, with its 
arched fanlight of painted glass. The elder 
Miss Rowland, Miss Elizabeth by name, let 
them in and seemed much pleased to have such 
a swarm of visitors. She was a very straight, 
stern-looking lady with gray hair, attired with 
extreme neatness in a gray and white gingham 
dress and a tight gray woolen spencer. In spite 
of her formal manner, however, she evidently 
had a great deal of personality. 

‘‘It’s very kind of you to ask us all at once,” 
said Priscilla respectfully, “ there are such a 
lot of us, Miss Rowland.’’ 

“Glad you could come,” said Miss Rowland 
quite cordially, “very glad to have Miss Lang¬ 
don’s pupils here. But I think, Miss Langdon, 
we’ll show you something you don’t have in 
New York.” 

“I hope you will, Miss Rowland,” said Miss 
Langdon earnestly. “It would be a great pity 
to travel and see only what there is to see at 
home, wouldn’t it, girls?” 

This point having been unanimously agreed 
to, evidently to Miss Rowland’s perfect satis¬ 
faction, she led the way into a large room from 
which a curious noise, something between a 
purr and a whiz, had been drifting out into the 
entry hall. Here were several young women, 
in big caps and aprons, not only sitting before 





IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


105 


spinning-wheels just like the pictures of Pris¬ 
cilla Alden, but actually spinning wool of va¬ 
rious colors off on the whirring bobbins before 
them. 

“Our hand-spinning room,” said Miss 
Rowland. “See, here is the natural color 
wool”—she picked up a hunch of carded pieces 
about an inch wide—“this is the wool of black 
sheep”—it was dark brown rather than really 
black—“and these red and blue and green 
bunches are dyed with fast dyes made here un¬ 
der my direction.” 

“How do you make the dyes?” asked Vir¬ 
ginia, very much interested. Miss Rowland 
looked severe, and then had to laugh. 

“That’s a secret! I have recipes for them 
that have come down from colonial days. But 
Ill tell you this, that they are all made from 
plants that grow in the woods around here . 9 y 

In the room beyond the spinning-room ap¬ 
peared Miss Jane Rowland, who, being fully 
two years younger than Miss Elizabeth, lived 
up to her tradition of youth by wearing a skit¬ 
tish blue bow at the neck of her knitted spencer. 
She was equally glad to receive visitors, and 
began at once to demonstrate for their benefit 
hand-weaving on a large handloom that took 
up one end of the room between the windows. 
She was making tweed cloth out of the natural 
black and white wool that had been spun in the 
other room. 




106 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


The weaving and spinning were so full of fas¬ 
cination that the party could scarcely have torn 
themselves away from seeing these unusual 
sights if Miss Elizabeth had not promised them 
something even better in the next room, the 
making of beautiful hooked rugs. Bending 
over the long stretched foundations of canvas 
fixed in their frames, the women workers held 
their threads of colored wool beneath the frame, 
and patiently, stitch by stitch, pulled one little 
loop after another through the canvas with a 
sharp steel hook. In this way exquisite designs 
of fruits and flowers were appearing in the 
frames. 

In the last workroom workers were mold¬ 
ing candles. Slow and tedious, requiring pains 
and patience from the boiling and straining of 
the wax right up to the final splitting apart of 
the greasy molds, this work, too, was well 
worth while. The irregular shape of the candles 
was charming, the purity of their wax made a 
light of the greatest clarity and beauty. Even 
the smoke from the one Miss Elizabeth lit for 
a demonstration gave out the sweetest of faint 
odors as it vanished into the air. 

‘‘ Oh, I like it here the best ! 9 9 cried Virginia 
enthusiastically. “I do wish I could learn how 
to make candles ! 9 9 

“I think,” replied Miss Elizabeth with a 
shrewd but very kindly appraising smile, “that 
you’d do better to snap on the electric light!” 




IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


107 


1 ‘Maybe that’s more my style,” admitted Vir¬ 
ginia, joining in the laugh which this telling 
sally aroused, “but I should have thought that 
you would have thought, Miss Elizabeth, that 
everyone ought to use candles.” 

“Now, there it is again!” cried Miss Eliza¬ 
beth, with mock ferocity, shaking her finger at 
Virginia. “Do you see that?” The finger in¬ 
dicated a large electric light in the center of 
the ceiling. “People always ask me if I don’t 
want to go back to the Ark, because I have these 
old industries going on here. It’s not so. 
We’re living now . But I’m going to keep those 
arts alive because they are beautiful and his¬ 
toric and unique. Whatever kind of beautiful 
American traditions you keep alive, the richer 
your own life will be—isn’t that true?” 

It seemed like the greatest good luck that the 
ticket-office, where the girls went next to buy 
their tickets for the pageant, was in one of the 
Academy class-rooms. Having secured excel¬ 
lent seats in the front row, the girls were 
delighted to find that the holidays were no bar 
to their going through the old school. Indeed, 
visitors were expected, and boy and girl stu¬ 
dents were stationed through the building at all 
points of interest to give information to anyone 
interested. 

“Surely this isn’t the original building, ia 
it?” asked Miss Langdon of one of the boys. 




108 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Wasn’t this school founded in 1798? This 
doesn’t look like a very old building.” 

“Oh, no, ma’am, this building’s only about 
eighty years old, ’ ’ said the boy with the air of 
the oldest inhabitant. “I’ll show you the orig¬ 
inal building. There it is, through the win¬ 
dow. ’ ’ 

“Now, girls, I want you to take one look at 
that, and then never complain again because 
there isn’t enough steam heat at Clifton, or be¬ 
cause you don’t like the patent ventilators and 
it’s a bore to be measured for chairs and 
desks,” said Miss Langdon, shaking her head 
at both the girls and the severe, bare-looking 
two-story building that stood at right angles to 
the Academy just to one side of the green 
campus in the rear. 

“I don’t believe they got much air through 
those little windows,” cried Dorothy, “and 
look, you can see some of the seats from here 
now! Why, they’re just wooden benches, as 
stiff as can be, with board tables in front of 
them. I hope no one has to study and recite 
there to-day.” 

“Oh, no, that’s a town museum now,” said 
the boy student. ‘ i They just keep one room that 
way to show what it used to be like in the old 
days. They must have had a swell time then! 
Have you been in the trophy room upstairs? 
Well, when you go there, you’ll see the old rules 




IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


109 


and regulations the students had to live up to. 
Pd like to see ’em do it to-day! Still, that 
didn’t keep’ em from coming here from all over 
the state, for half a century.” 

“Do you have students from all over now, 
too?” asked Miss Langdon. 

“No, ma’am, you see there are a great many 
more schools to-day. Our students mostly 
come from towns nearby where the trolley 
runs to, but we have a big school, just the same 
as we have had for a hundred and twenty-odd 
years.” 

It seemed no wonder that this statement 
should be true, for a visit through the building 
not only brought the sightseers into the large 
new wing with its modern class-rooms and lab¬ 
oratories, but showed them the studios on the 
top floor, and the nearby athletic fields and 
open-air gymnasium, looking across to the dis¬ 
tant, faintly green Berkshire hills with the shin¬ 
ing mountain river at their foot which had 
caused the venturesome early settlers to name 
their abiding place on Great Britain’s most 
western boundary “Fair Valley.” And in the 
school trophy room were the records of the 
school’s distinguished history. 

Tablets and pictures on the wall, books and 
manuscripts spread out under glass, told their 
own story. Conspicuous was a small metal 




110 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


plate set in the corner of the trophy-case, and 
engraved with the following inscription: 


The trophy-cases in this room were pre¬ 
sented to Fair Valley Academy by the 
Alumnae of the school in honor of its first 
girl student 

CONSTANCE DARE 

who won, for the girls in this county, the 
great trophy of education. In 1801 she 
went every day and sat on the school- 
house doorstep that she might hear the 
hoys recite their lessons . Though “ex¬ 
horted and chastised” for this practice, 
she persisted in it, and in 1802 was ad¬ 
mitted as a student. 


“What a girl! And what a lovely name for 
her!” cried Rose rapturously. 

“I'm sure she always had a good influence,” 
declared Miss Langdon, “for look, girls, here 
in the next case are old school catalogues, run¬ 
ning along for year after year, and you can 
see that only ten years after Constance dared, 
*the Trustees announce the introduction of in¬ 
struction to cultivate the Female Graces.' Let's 





IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


111 


see whether we have any such instruction at 
Clifton! It seems to comprise ‘landscape 
drawing, embroidery and vocal and instru¬ 
mental music, each $15 extra per annum.’ ” 

“I wish I could get a year of vocal music 
for fifteen dollars!” cried Helena. 

“It's reasonable enough, certainly. But I 
wonder what regular studies the girls and boys 
took,” said Muriel. 

“Here they are,” said Joyce, who was mak¬ 
ing her way along the row of catalogues. “In 
1840 they took English, Latin, Greek, French, 
writing, arithmetic, geography, geometry, the 
art of speaking, and philosophy.” 

“Roger wouldn’t have liked it here,” ob¬ 
served Muriel, “there’s nothing to blow up in 
that list!” 

“Neither would I,” declared Dorothy posi¬ 
tively, “for look here: this is the list of regu¬ 
lations that boy upstairs spoke of: ‘Thirty-five 
Articles for Regulating the Deportment of 
Students No. 1 says: 

‘A fine of six cents shall be imposed on the 
Student who plays ball near the Academy.’ 
I wonder if they never moved in 1840! And 
they fined you if you broke the rules! Well, 
I am glad I didn’t live then! Just look at these 
regulations: 




112 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“ ‘No. 2. Boys and girls shall not speak to 
each other except at meals. For infringement, 
$1.00 fine.’ 

“ ‘No. 3. For damage to library books: 


Fines: Blot . $.06 

Tearing, per inch.06 

Tallow, per drop... .02’ 


“And there are thirty-one other rules! ’We’d 
all be bankrupt if we had to come here.” 

“Oh, oh! Here it tells about a boy who did 
break a rule and was bankrupt! ’’ cried Evelyn, 
moving along a little distance to the next case. 
“This is an old master’s record-book, dated 
1845, and the boy was named Winthrop Jerrold 
— Jerrold, Aline and Helena! Listen: 

‘ ‘ ‘ To-day Winthrop Jerrold appeared before 
me for reprimand. He had picked up the hand¬ 
kerchief of a female student, Anne Farnham 
by name, while the female students were walk¬ 
ing across the green, and returned it to her 
with the words: “Miss Farnham, permit me 
to return your handkerchief.” He appeared 
entirely recalcitrant, maintaining that it was his 
duty to return lost property. He also declared 
that he had no dollar to pay a fine, for, though 
having had one that morning, he had spent 
it at the sweet-shop on cream-cakes. I there¬ 
fore ordered him to remain in his room during 
the recess hour, and to give his thoughts up to 
filial piety, asking himself whether he did right 






IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


113 


to disappoint his devoted parents by violating 
Rule No. 2, and spending their hard-won dollars 
on cream-cakes . 9 ” 

“They never let up on anybody then, did 
they?” cried Helena, quite disgusted. “I won¬ 
der if that Jerrold boy could have been any rel¬ 
ative of our Jerrold family, Aline? You know 
they came from Massachusetts originally, as 
we have frequently heard.” 

“I wonder,” echoed Aline, but she was in¬ 
terrupted by Virginia, who had skipped around 
the long trophy-room back to the entrance door. 

“Here’s more about him that we never 
saw!” she cried, pointing to a large bronze 
tablet on the wall, and the next instant the 
whole party was reading the inscription shown 
on the following page: 




114 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


The Faculty, Trustees and Students 
of 

Fair Valley Academy 
have placed this tablet here to perpetuate 
the memory of 

W1NTHROP JERROLD 
Class of 1846 
Born:—Boston, 1828 
Died:—Fair Valley, California—1893 

Forty-niner — Rancher — State Senator 
Congressman 

Known throughout the State of his adop¬ 
tion as “The Pilgrim in the Sombrero” 

The ideals of truth and freedom his 
forefathers bore across the sea to found a 
home for liberty, he bore across the con¬ 
tinent to complete the Republic. 

Also to the memory of his wife 

ANNE FARNE AM 
Class of 1848 

Bora:—Springfield—1831 
Died:—1853 





IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


115 


“He turned out better than you might have 
expected after those cream-cakes,’ 9 said Mu¬ 
riel. 

“But listen, girls,” insisted Helena rather 
excitedly, “he must really have belonged to our 
Jerrold family. You’ve heard that saying, ‘the 
Jerrold name is known from Cape Cod to the 
Golden Gate,’ and there was a Jerrold who was 
a famous Congressman from California in the 
’70’s, when so much that was important took 
place in that state—your father told me so, 
Aline, when we started going downtown.” 

“Then this must be the Jerrold,” admitted 
Aline, much interested. “I do wonder what 
relation he was to Mr. G. Witherbee! But I 
don’t wonder they’re proud of him in this 
school—he seems to have made a success of 
everything.’ 9 

“From getting out of paying fines to getting 
ingratiated with Anne Farnham , 9 9 smiled Rose. 
“There seems to be such a lot about him, I 
wonder if there’s nothing more known about 
her. I’m going to ask!” 

She turned and beckoned to a pretty little 
girl student stationed in the trophy-room, who 
came running promptly over to the group. 

“We were ever so much interested,” said 
Rose politely, “in reading about Anne Farn¬ 
ham in the master’s record, and then seeing 
that she married Winthrop Jerrold! Can you 
tell us anything more about her?” 




116 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Not much,” said the little girl with a smile, 
“but I can show you a sort of picture of her.” 
She indicated on the wall, close at hand, a sil¬ 
houette of a young girl, evidently in fancy 
dress, with an ingeniously-cut wreath conspicu¬ 
ous around her smoothly-dressed head. “She 
was the Rose Queen one year, and they hap¬ 
pened to cut a silhouette of her, and it was 
preserved, and hung here to show our old Acad¬ 
emy custom—we crown a Rose Queen every 
year here in June, you know. You’ll see it done 
to-morrow in the pageant-” 

She went on talking, but Aline heard not a 
word more. It had seemed to her, as she looked 
at the silhouette, as if suddenly her heart had 
stopped beating. There was about the silhou¬ 
ette a definite, unmistakable familiarity, yet 
Aline battled in vain to repudiate recognition 
as too ridiculous. Finally her heart gave a 
great bound again, she drew a long breath, and 
glanced at Helena, to see whether she, too, who 
had looked with interest at the silhouette, had 
noticed anything special about it. But Helena 
was now looking rather closely at the lower 
part of the tablet. The girl student was still 
talking. 

—“so he went out there and made a fortune 
in the gold-mines, for her sake, and came back, 
and married her.” 

“But she didn’t live very long,” said Vir- 




IN OLD FAIR VALLEY 


117 


ginia sadly. “And it doesn’t even say where 
she died. ’ 9 

The little girl shook her head. 

“Nobody knows that. He went back again 
in about two years to make them a home there, 
and she went out later on, to join him there. 
But she sailed on one of the California clipper- 
ships—oh, do you know about them?—and it 
was never heard of again.” 




CHAPTER IX 

THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 

S O Anne Farnham, the graceful school-girl 
of the silhouette, had married a connec¬ 
tion of the New York Jerrolds, and had 
met with so tragic an end! It was almost a 
shock to hear it, so real had the old records, 
the tablet and picture, made her and her gallant 
school-boy admirer, and for several minutes 
the girls continued their exploration of the 
trophy-room in silence. Then their admiration 
of the beautiful school banners, the silver ath¬ 
letic cups won by Academy teams, and the 
striking photographs of school happenings 
which made up the modern section of the room, 
could not be contained. The rest of the after¬ 
noon was filled with enthusiasm for Fair Val¬ 
ley, enthusiasm, however, which did not pre¬ 
vent, but rather assisted some very hard think¬ 
ing in nine keen minds. 

“The Pageant of the Seed,” as the com¬ 
munity pageant of Fair Valley was called, was 
118 


THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


119 


scheduled for two o’clock on Saturday after¬ 
noon, and long before that hour the girls were 
filling their front-row seats on the beautiful 
old village green. A low stage of green- 
painted wood had been built around the trunks 
of several of the smaller maple trees on the 
green, so that natural scenery provided the 
setting for the scenes. The background was 
formed by a long line of red-oak trees and 
flowering dogwood. High green curtains shut 
off the wings. 

“Isn’t anybody from Fair Valley coming to 
see the pageant?” asked Joyce anxiously, 
twisting her head in all directions to view the 
large audience. “These aren’t Fair Valley 
people. They’re all dressed up, and they’ve 
come over from the inn, and off trolley-cars 
and automobiles. Don’t Fair Valley people 
like their own pageant?” 

“So much that they’re all in it, Joyce,” 
laughed Miss Langdon. “In a very few min¬ 
utes you’ll see all the citizens of Fair Valley 
right before you instead of behind you. They’re 
so proud of their town history that they all 
have to take part in repeating it. Indeed, lots 
of the people you’ll see are descendants of the 
original men and women who did the deeds they 
are repeating to-day.” Then all grew suddenly 
quiet as the notes of a cornet in the distance 
announced the coming of the first scene of the 
pageant. 




120 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


This was called “The Sowing.” Forth from 
the bushes and trees enclosing one end of the 
platform came a strange and picturesque pro¬ 
cession. Five ox-carts, drawn by fine red 
steers, passed slowly across the stage. On five 
ox-carts, explained the Spirit of the Soil, a 
beautiful girl in green and brown who held the 
center of the stage, had come all the possessions 
of the first settlers of Fair Valley from eastern 
Massachusetts. Farmers, they had sought a 
richer soil than the rocky eastern coast where 
they had made their first home, and so in 1670 
they had struck boldly forth into a wilderness, 
accompanied by their families. 

The carts disappeared, and in a moment 
came Scene II, “The Blight.” During the ex¬ 
position of the scene, settlers quickly erected 
against the background a great stockade, in 
imitation of the one which, thirty years after 
the settlement, had stood on the very site of the 
stage. Hither the whole population came flee¬ 
ing for refuge. It was a time of war between 
Great Britain and France, and the French had 
aroused the anger of the Indians in the Valley 
against the English settlers. 

Then came the attack, the historic destruc¬ 
tion of first settlement, by which for a time 
all the labor of the first-comers was thought 
to have been wiped out. With great realism, 
the Indians swarmed from the bushes and up 
the stockade, smashing it with their toma- 




THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


121 


hawks. The settlers resisted with heroic cour¬ 
age, but they were at last forced to surrender. 
Faithfully following history, the “Indians ’ 1 led 
most of the women and all the children of Fair 
Valley forth with them as captives. The whole 
scene was splendidly rapid and vivid, leaving 
the girls wondering what after all had caused 
the settlement to spring up again, but they were 
not long in ignorance, for as the last tall ‘‘In¬ 
dian’ * departed, leading a little girl of seven 
or eight, she, unseen by him, slipped off her 
little shoe, and dropped it on the road. Soon 
a company of sturdy frontiersmen rallied nobly 
to the assistance of the Fair Valley settlers, 
discovered the little girl’s shoe, saw that the 
captives must have been carried to Canada, and 
set forth at once to redeem them. Several 
years were supposed to have elapsed before 
their leader was able to make a treaty with the 
Indians, but finally he reappeared, leading back 
to the diminished settlement the handful of 
captives who had not died or disappeared. 

The third scene was called ‘‘ The Living 
Root.” Fair Valley had sent many a patriot 
soldier to the Revolution, and to-day on its 
stage these patriots erected Liberty Poles as 
fast as Tories cut them down, to both hearty 
amusement and great applause. The second 
brief incident of this scene was the * ‘ Crowning 
of the Rose Queen,” which typified the vigorous 
life of the great local school for young people 




122 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


founded after peace had brought prosperity to 
Fair Valley. 

“Why,” cried Virginia as the Rose Queen, 
surrounded by all her attendants, came on the 
stage to the strains of the sweetest music the 
orchestra could play, “she’s the pretty little 
girl that told us all about—that said we’d see 
this old school custom in the pageant to-day. 
Wasn’t she modest not to say she was going 
to be Queen herself?” 

4 4 She was thinking about the school, not her¬ 
self, I guess, and that’s why she told us such a 
lot,” said Joyce. 44 See, all the Hours and 
Seasons and Virtues have chosen Love as their 
queen, and are crowning her with the rose- 
wreath ! ’ ’ 

Old-fashioned and formal as the brief cere¬ 
mony looked to modern eyes, its charm and 
suitability to the girls who took part accounted 
for its long preservation as a Fair Valley 
Academy custom, and its deserved popularity 
with the audience. After having seen the rose- 
crowned silhouette in the trophy-room the 
previous afternoon, the Linger-Nots were only 
less interested in the pretty ceremony than 
they were in the scene following, 4 4 The 
Branch. ’ ’ 

“Winthrop Jerrold founds Fair Valley, Cal¬ 
ifornia,” cried the Spirit of the Soil, electri¬ 
fying the listeners in the front row. On the 
stage appeared a young miner with pick and 




THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


123 


shovel, who, in the midst of comrade gold- 
seekers, applied himself with special enthusiasm 
and light-heartedness to his task. 

Then one of the miners, standing upright and 
gazing toward the east with his hand shading 
his eyes, cried: 

“Look, yonder comes a rider of Kit Car¬ 
son’s !” 

In leather suit trimmed with fringe, with a 
fur cap on his head, and a long breech-loading 
rifle strapped on his back, a scout rode on the 
stage and dismounted. A miner spoke: 

“Where are you from, Scout?” 

“St. Louis. Is there a man here named Win- 
throp Jerrold?” 

“Yonder, working.” Other miners joined in: 

“He seeks gold for his wife and child, who 
have sailed to join him.” 

“Scout, have you brought word of them? 
Yes? Jerrold, here’s word from your wife and 
child!” The scout waved his hand warningly, 
as Jerrold rushed up. 

(6 W ord— of —them. ’ ’ 

“Have they sailed?” 

“Eight months ago, from New York—aboard 
a fast clipper.” 

“A fast clipper—eight months since?” 

“Here is the message.” 

Jerrold, trembling, tore open the message, 
read it, and sank to the ground. One of the 
miners, picking up the paper, read aloud: 




124 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“No word from the clipper on which your 
wife and son sailed . Owners have abandoned 
hope” 

There was a long pause, broken only by the 
soft notes of the orchestra. At last Jerrold 
staggered to his feet, his pick still in his hand. 
In a moment came the climax of the brief scene. 
He slowly dropped the pick, and spoke; 

‘ ‘ There is no more need for gold. For work, 
for growth, there is always need. Far in the 
south, I have seen a sunny valley beneath the 
snows of the Sierras, where the soil can bear 
fruit more precious than gold. There I will 
betake myself, and this great State shall be 
my love, and all her children, my posterity. 
Fair Valley, where I found my happiness, in 
your namesake shall still be my hope!” 

He turned toward the south, and the high 
curtain that concealed the south wing parted, 
as the orchestra swelled its playing into a noble 
melody, and Jerrold ’s outstretched hand 
pointed toward a great orchard in full bloom 
just beyond the green, symbolic of the mighty 
fruit-ranches of Fair Valley, California. 

Not everyone would have agreed with the 
nine girls in the front row that this scene was 
the most impressive of the whole pageant, for 
the last one, “The Flower,” a depiction of 
modern Fair Valley, with a demonstration of 
its beautiful arts, led by Miss Elizabeth Row¬ 
land, a splendid drill by the Fair Valley boys 




THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 125 


who had borne witness to their traditions on 
the battlefields of France, and a magnificent 
closing anthem by the full Academy chorus, 
was the scene which won the loudest approba¬ 
tion of the audience. But there were several 
reasons why the girls had been most interested 
by “The Branch.’’ 

Indeed, they were without exception glad 
when supper time united them, in pleasant 
shelter within the dining room alcove of the 
Fair Valley Arms. There was something on 
everybody’s mind which everybody wanted to 
discuss if somebody else would open the con¬ 
versation ! 

“Where’s Aline?” asked Priscilla, looking 
down the long table from her stately position 
at the head to Aline’s empty seat between Eve¬ 
lyn and Muriel. 

‘ i She ’ll be here right away, we don’t have to 
wait for her, ’ ’ answered Helena. ‘ ‘ She was in 
the sitting-room with Miss Elizabeth Rowland 
when I came out of the house, and nodded to 
me to go on. I think she was asking Miss Eliza¬ 
beth something about those blue-and-white 
patchwork quilts they showed in the fifth scene 
of the pageant.” 

“I don’t think it’s polite to ask Miss Eliza¬ 
beth questions before supper when everybody’s 
tired,” said Virginia virtuously, responsible 
for the family conduct. 

“I guess Aline isn’t asking for secret for- 




126 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


mulas for dyes, anyway/ ’ observed Muriel 
kindly. “But here she is, and she can speak 
for herself. Better hustle if you want anything 
to eat, Aline. I saved this plate for you, or Vir¬ 
ginia would have had two. What kept you?” 

“Just talking/’ replied Aline. She had evi¬ 
dently done enough of it for the present, for she 
attacked her supper vigorously in silence. 

Not so, however, Virginia. She spread half 
a biscuit thick with butter, thicker with honey, 
crammed it into her mouth, and then, by some 
secret formula of her own, no doubt, demanded 
of the company in a clear voice: 

“Say, listen! Weren’t you all surprised 
when that Jerrold child turned up in the middle 
of the pageant?” 

Aline dropped her fork with a crash on her 
plate, but nobody noticed, for Joyce replied 
promptly: 

“I should say I was! The little girl hadn’t 
said a word about him yesterday—I daresay 
she was thinking only about Anne Farnham, 
since it was she we asked about. But after all, 
I’m glad she didn’t mention the baby, for yes¬ 
terday the story seemed so sad, and to-day it 
wasn’t so terrible when you saw how well Win- 
throp Jerrold turned out after all.” 

“Why, Joyce Barry! You don’t think it’s 
terrible for a baby to be drowned on a clipper- 
ship?” Virginia was highly shocked by 
Joyce’s ready optimism. 



THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


127 


“I think it’s terrible for a baby to be 
drowned. But why do you keep on saying 
‘baby’? They said 1 child’ and ‘son* in the 
pageant. How do you know be was young 
enough to be a baby?” 

“Why, don’t you remember that yesterday 
that little girl said that Winthrop Jerrold went 
to California in 1848, right after the discovery 
of gold, to make a fortune for Anne Farnham’s 
sake, and that then they were married in 1850? 
The child must have been very young. ’ 9 

“Of course, I forgot. That was after you 
said she didn’t live long, for she died in 1853 
when the clipper-ship-” 

Joyce stopped suddenly. There was a strange 
feeling in the atmosphere surrounding the table 
which impressed even her, and she was the least 
imaginative of all the girls. Then as suddenly 
she spoke again: 

“I know what I’m thinking of—that card on 
our Travel Fund box—the clipper-card of the 
Ocean Monarch , which says: ‘Holds the 1853 
West-Bound Record.’ It was a fast clipper 
that Anne sailed on. Do you suppose it could 
have been the Ocean Monarch? yy 

“Why, I daresay it could have been, but there 
must have been lots of fast clippers in 1853,” 
said Priscilla. ‘ ‘ I don’t see just what difference 
it makes-” 

“It makes this difference,” rejoined Dor¬ 
othy. “Aline says Felicity Hull has a duplicate 





128 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


of that clipper-card, which belonged to her 
father. I told you before that if he were living 
he’d be about sixty-nine, so that in 1853 he’d 
have been two years old. Not so far from the 
probable age of that baby Joyce wants to 
drown! There’s some queer connection here, 
I believe!” 

Aline finally found her voice. This time she 
laid down her fork, and speaking distinctly, but 
with rather a trembling accent, she said: 

“I believe there may be a great deal more 
connection than any of us know anything about. 
But, girls, nobody has mentioned the—the real 
point, yet.” 

“What is it?” demanded Helena, looking un¬ 
comfortable. 

“That silhouette of the Rose Queen.” 

“What!” cried everybody, except Helena. 

“None of you other girls could have seen 
what I mean, but you did, Helena.” Aline 
spoke positively. 

“I don’t believe it!” cried Helena sharply. 
“It’s too silly!” 

“It’s not silly at all,” returned Aline quietly. 

“Do tell us what you’re talking about, you 
two,” begged Priscilla. “We’re absolutely in 
the dark!” 

“What Helena and I both noticed about that 
silhouette with the wreath,” answered Aline, 
still very quietly, “is the shape of the head. It 




THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


129 


is beautifully proportioned, and set very 
straight on the shoulders.” 

“Why, I noticed that too,” said Rose, “and 
I guess we all did, Aline. You couldn’t easily 
miss that.” 

“Well,” continued Aline, “Helena and I did 
more than notice it, then. We recognized it. 
Felicity Hull’s head is exactly the same beau¬ 
tiful shape, and she carries it exactly the same 
way.” 

Calmly as the announcement was made, it 
threw the whole table into a flutter. 

“Do you mean they’re related?” 

“Did the face look like Felicity?” 

“But how, if you can’t see the color of the 
hair or eyes or anything-” 

“Do you really think just the shape of the 
head is important?” 

“Give me a chance, and I’ll tell you every¬ 
thing I know, ’ ’ said Aline. ‘ ‘ Oh, botheration! ’ ’ 

She added the exclamation under her breath, 
for the waitress, who had taken a great fancy 
to her nine charges in the alcove, had just ap¬ 
peared with a beaming smile and an urgent in¬ 
vitation to have something nice for dessert. 
Priscilla, however, saved the company the 
mental effort of deciding by commanding ice¬ 
cream for all, also cake, also cocoa, and in addi¬ 
tion, crackers and cheese. 

“There! She’s happy, and we can stay here 
and talk as long as we like,” declared the etrat- 




130 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


egist at the head of the table. “Now, Aline, 
proceed—quickly. ’ ’ 

“Yesterday,’’ proceeded Aline, “that sil¬ 
houette of Anne Farnham upset me so for a 
minute that I thought I should just scream! I 
looked at Helena, to see if she had noticed the 
likeness, but she was looking away-” 

“I was afraid you were going to look at me,” 
admitted Helena with a smile of confession, 
“and I had noticed it, and wouldn’t believe it! 
So I did look away, and the first thing I saw 
was that date, *1853.’ ” 

“That’ll come in later,” said Aline eagerly. 
“Well, of course I thought right away, ‘ I’m on 
the trail of Felicity’s family at last!’ Then the 
next thing that happened was that little girl’s 
saying that Anne Farnham had been lost at 
sea, and as she never mentioned any descend¬ 
ants, I was upset again, because that left a per¬ 
fectly blank gap of half a century between Anne 
Farnham and Felicity, if they could have been 
related. I was so disappointed, because aside 
from the likeness, the fact of their both being 
New Englanders seemed to fit in nicely. Just 
the same, I could not get over that similarity in 
the shape of the heads. Then this afternoon, 
in the pageant, when they said, ‘he seeks gold 
for his wife and child/ I thought I should just 
faint! I made my mind up then and there that 
I would find out if it was silly, as Helena said 
and as I thought myself for a while, to think a 




THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


131 


similarity in the shape of Felicity’s head and 
that of the silhouette might point to a family 
likeness. So I did. And it seems that the way 
the hones are formed, and the carriage of the 
body, are more characteristic than coloring or 
complexion or even voice. They can be imi¬ 
tated or changed—bones can’t.” 

“How do you know!” asked Joyce. 

“I asked Miss Elizabeth. I went and talked 
to her a long time about a great many things, 
and asked her incidentally. She knows a tre¬ 
mendous lot—so much that she would never 
laugh at anybody,” replied Aline, whose sound 
powers of observation had stood her in excel¬ 
lent stead in estimating that admirable New 
England lady, Miss Elizabeth Rowland. “Now, 
I can’t tell what relation Anne Farnham was to 
Felicity, but it does look, doesn’t it, as if they 
might belong to the same family!” 

“And if Anne had a child,” cried Muriel, 
“why-” 

“But it was drowned, I keep telling you,” in¬ 
terrupted Joyce, “on the ship that was lost in 
1853.” 

“Do stop telling us, then,” urged Muriel, 
“because I don’t believe anybody knows 
whether it was or not. They may think so.” 

“Anyway, we now have the two clipper-cards 
and the date 1853 on one card and on the tablet, 
and the likeness between Felicity and Anne 
Farnham, and the fact that the ages of Anne’s 




132 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


son and Felicity’s father would be the same!” 
Aline voiced the general excitement. Only Rose 
raised a prudent suggestion: 

“But, girls! Felicity’s father’s name was 
Hull, and Anne Farnham’s son would have been 
named Jerrold. Nobody seems to have remem¬ 
bered that.” 

“That’s quite true,” admitted Aline, and 
everyone looked a little dashed. 

“And I do think it seems awfully queer that 
we should come up to a little place like Fair 
Valley and run straight into facts that we im¬ 
mediately connect with Felicity. I do hope 
we ’re not making all this wonderful story up, ’ ’ 
said Priscilla, with her usual caution. 

“Oh, there I think you might be mistaken, 
Priscilla,” returned Evelyn quite thoughtfully. 
“We’ve come to a place where lots and lots of 
people used to come from all over New England, 
on account of the school, you know. Now we 
might have gone everywhere asking for the 
people we’re trying to find, but isn’t it just as 
likely we ’ll find out something about them if we 
visit a center where they might easily have 
been?” 

“Very, very good, Evelyn. Excellent!’’ pro¬ 
nounced the company, and Helena added: 

“We certainly have got a lot of pieces of the 
puzzle picture. But now we’ve got to go on 
and find something that will make them all fit 
together perfectly.” 




THE PAGEANT OF THE SEED 


133 


“We certainly must,” agreed Priscilla. 
“How strange that we thought as soon as we 
found our ‘gold’ to bring us to Fair Valley, 
our quest would be over! It ’s only brought us 
to the point of trailing a real gold seeker on 
Felicity’s account, and the quest still points 
ahead.” 

“And when we find out who she is, we’ll 
bring her home a golden peace!” cried Dor¬ 
othy, and fled out of the door just in the nick 
of time. 




CHAPTER X 


W 


DEADLOCK 

"HERE are you going, Jinny?” de¬ 
manded two voices in concert. 

‘To amuse Ho and Jerk, of 
course,” replied Virginia, refusing to be de¬ 
layed by Muriel and Joyce, who had met her 
as she was proceeding north along Willett 
Parkway to the home of her young charges, 
Joan and Herkimer Bronson. 

“Sure enough, it’s Wednesday afternoon, 
isn’t it? We don’t have to be at the library for 
twenty minutes, Muriel, let’s walk up to the 
Bronson’s with Jinny,” proposed Joyce, and 
so the trio went on together. “But I never 
thought, Jinny, that you’d go on tending those 
bad kids as soon as you got your money for the 
trip to Fair Valley.” 

“They’re not bad,” said Virginia sharply, 
and with stern pride. “They say ‘please’ lots 
of times now without being told first! And 
they haven’t hit each other now for three days. 

134 


DEADLOCK 


135 


Their mother told me so this morning, and she 
said I was a beautiful influence and gave me a 
big box of candy. They love me terribly. I 
wouldn’t stop tending them for anything, but 
I am surprised that you and Muriel go on lug¬ 
ging those awful dusty old books all over that 
stuffy library every afternoon.” 

‘ ‘ It’s not stuffy! ’’ cried Muriel. “ I keep the 
windows open—that’s part of my work, and it’s 
very important to keep public rooms well venti¬ 
lated, I’d like you to remember.” 

1 * Oh, I think it’s fun to work,” put in Joyce 
pacifically, adding, with her usual practical 
sense, “and it’s nice to make money now that 
we don’t have to put into the Travel Fund, 
isn’t it? Not that I wouldn’t like to raise one 
again some time. I do think that trip to Fair 
Valley was simply glorious, and the most won¬ 
derful success. ’ ’ 

“Yes, we had a splendid time, and everybody 
was so sorry when we had to leave,” agreed 
Virginia, frank as usual. “And they were glad 
to see us home again, too. Did you see the 
chain Gordon carved for Helena while we were 
away?” 

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” answered Muriel, but 
Joyce said: “No, I haven’t seen it. What’s it 
like?” 

“Wooden links, each with a little design, all 
different, and joined together wonderfully, so 
you can’t see the joinings at all. That old Mr. 




136 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


Hornsby, ’round at the little church, taught him 
how to do it. He learned how at sea, sixty or 
seventy years ago, and now those wooden 
chains are fashionable again, and Helena wears 
hers downtown every day.” 

‘ 1 It’s a nice chain, but I don’t see that get¬ 
ting a present when you come back from a trip 
means that the trip was successful,” remarked 
Muriel, who was in rather a contrary mood. “I 
think Fair Valley was most worth while because 
we got on the track of so much about Felicity 
Hull. Aline won’t tell her anything we think 
even yet, because she says none of it is certain 
and she doesn’t want to disappoint Felicity. I 
wish she would. I don’t see how we’re going 
to get any further information if she doesn’t. 
I wish I could see her picture, and compare it 
with mine. ’ ’ 

“I wish we could see her,” said Joyce 
thoughtfully. 

“That’s exactly what I wish,” cried Vir¬ 
ginia, slowing her pace as the yellow front of 
the Bronson apartment house appeared on the 
horizon. “Listen, why don’t we? We could 
go down and have lunch at the Golden Samovar 
some day. We’re making lots of money.” 

“How much does lunch there cost?” asked 
Joyce. 

“Fifty cents with soup, forty without.” 

“I hate soup,” said Muriel thriftily. “All 
right, let’s go next Saturday, but let’s not tell 




DEADLOCK 


137 


Helena and Aline we’re going. Let’s surprise 
them.” 

i ‘All right, that’ll be fun,” agreed Virginia, 
taking her leave quickly as a thunderous rap¬ 
ping on a window pane above the girls’ heads 
proclaimed the transports of Joan and Herki¬ 
mer on beholding their preceptress. “We ’ll go 
down and see Felicity and Mrs. Jerrold and 
all the sights.” 

Quite unconscious of her younger sister’s 
plans, Aline was again in her place at the 
Golden Samovar with Helena, and both of them 
had returned to their work with something like 
the new enthusiasm shown by the trio strolling 
along Willett Parkway. Aline had found in 
Fair Valley special new encouragement in her 
search for Felicity’s family history, for her ap¬ 
preciation of the spirit of the pageant—that 
idea of the perpetual progress of good un¬ 
checked by the most grievous disaster—now 
impelled her to try to piece together the frag¬ 
mentary but significant evidence of Anne Farn- 
ham’s story. 

So she had gone back to duty among the little* 
yellow tables with an enthusiasm which en¬ 
chanted Mrs. Jerrold and amazed even Felicity. 
She had been delighted to hear all that the girls 
had chosen to tell her of Fair Valley, and per¬ 
haps got the best description of it from Helena, 
who considered that personally she had had a 
gorgeous time, and had not neglected to tell her 




138 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


aunt and cousins in full and impressive detail 
of her sojourn at the home of the distinguished 
Misses Rowland. 

It did seem as if everybody was happy in 
springtime in Wall Street! Everybody came 
forth all at once in new apparel, suits of modest 
but striking tans and grays with fetching ties, 
frocks of decorously subdued but alluring crim¬ 
sons, blues, purples. New skyscrapers began 
to spring up, lifting their steel skeletons inimit¬ 
ably against the heavens. Battery Park turned 
greener than all the elms in Fair Valley, the 
sea-lion in the Aquarium climbed up on his 
island daily to give concerts amid great ap¬ 
plause, and beautiful dark-eyed little foreign 
children from country homes across the river 
appeared in the ‘ 1 canyons” clutching one 
another’s hands and offering bunches of ar¬ 
butus to passers-by for five cents. 

So cheerful, indeed, was the whole atmos¬ 
phere of Wall Street and Broad Street and of 
the Golden Samovar itself that when Virginia 
and Joyce and Muriel put in an appearance at 
the coffee-shop at noon of the Saturday agreed 
on, Aline and Helena, instead of being shocked, 
disappointed them all bitterly by laughing at 
them merrily, and refusing to be embarrassed 
by their watching the performance of carrying 
trays. 

“Well, it’s nice here, isn’t it?” inquired 
Joyce of her cronies, towards the conclusion of 




DEADLOCK 


139 


a highly agreeable adventure which, it must be 
said, had been very correctly conducted, so far. 

“Yes, it is, except that I don’t know why 
people ever have rice pudding,” responded Mu¬ 
riel, scraping her plate notwithstanding. She 
leaned comfortably against the partition which 
separated the private office from the restaurant. 
“Helena and Aline look lovely in those pretty 
dresses, don’t they?” 

“Oh, they’re all right.” Familiarity doubt¬ 
less restrained Virginia’s rapture to some ex¬ 
tent. “We didn’t come down here to see them, 
specially. What do you think of Felicity, 
girls?” 

“Hush, don’t say names,” murmured Joyce 
discreetly. “I think she’s wonderful.” 

“She can’t hear me, she’s ’way down the 
room,” said Virginia, lowering her voice just 
the same, for one instant. “She does look like 
the silhouette.” 

“She looks like her name,” said Muriel fanci¬ 
fully. 

“Indeed she does!” cried Virginia enthusi¬ 
astically. “And doesn’t it seem as if every¬ 
thing Aline thought of fitted ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, but,” added Muriel incisively, anxious 
to receive due credit, “it was I who had the 
duplicate card.” 

“Well, who remembered the date?” de¬ 
manded Joyce distinctly. “If it hadn’t been 




140 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


for my mentioning 1853, we’d have been in a 
bad way.” 

“But I spoke first about the ‘child,’ ” cried 
Virginia. “But never mind, we’re all wonders, 
of course, and now that I’ve seen her, I’m sure 
we all are right. She certainly looks like some¬ 
body.” 

With this final statement there could be no 
disagreement, and since the last atom of rice¬ 
pudding had long since vanished, and the 
Golden Samovar’s guests were rapidly depart¬ 
ing, nothing remained to be done but to pay 
the checks, which had each come to fifty cents 
after all, and to take one’s leave. Just as this 
final act was being performed, a stout lady with 
carefully marcelled bright sandy hair, in a 
handsome gray tailored gown, sallied forth 
from the private office into the restaurant, and 
appeared to contemplate the scene before her 
with keen consideration. Virginia, Joyce and 
Muriel were delighted that they had stayed so 
long, for by doing so their very eyes had rested 
on the great Mrs. Jerrold herself. 

They would have been greatly astonished had 
they known that at the very moment when they 
were proceeding up Broad Street Mrs. Jer- 
rold’s eyes were resting with no delight what¬ 
ever on Aline, who was contentedly clearing off 
her last table. She and Helena were alone. 
Felicity had gone early, as it was Saturday. 

“Leave that, and come into the office,” she 




DEADLOCK 


141 


commanded Aline abruptly. “Helena, don’t 
change those centerpieces now, you may as well 
come too. I wish to speak to you both.’ 9 

She marched ahead of them into the office, 
giving them just time to exchange a rather 
frightened look of surprise before she seated 
herself behind the desk and faced them. 

“Aline,” she began, “there were three little 
girls here for luncheon who seemed to know 
you. They were sitting just outside this of¬ 
fice.” 

“Yes,” said Aline somewhat nervously, as 
Mrs. Jerrold seemed to expect some acknowl¬ 
edgment, i i 1 know them . 9 9 

“Office girls, are they, from some office 
nearby?” 

“No, they aren’t employed down here,” re¬ 
turned Aline, with just a faint tinge of humor 
in her voice which Helena noticed and shared. 

“I am glad to hear that, for I feared that you 
had been making the history of one of your as¬ 
sociates the subject of local gossip.” 

This elegantly turned sentence, perhaps to 
Mrs. Jerrold’s disappointment, met with no re¬ 
sponse, for Aline was not entirely clear as to 
its meaning, though it did remind her dimly of 
what Mrs. Jerrold had been reported to have 
said to her uptown friends about Felicity when 
the Golden Samovar was opened. 

“Those three little girls,” resumed Mrs. Jer¬ 
rold in an impressive, explanatory tone, 




142 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“ rather indiscreetly raised their voices at one 
point without considering that someone might 
be directly behind this partition.’’ She touched 
the glass back of her desk. “I heard your name 
mentioned, Aline. I heard the name ‘ Felicity/ 
and two or three significant sentences. Now 
what is this nonsense about duplicate cards fit¬ 
ting, and Felicity being somebody important?” 

Totally unprepared for this question, abrupt¬ 
ly launched and harshly put, Helena felt a 
sense of shock, and glanced towards Aline in 
real distress. Aline of course was indulging 
in some of those unfortunate nervous tricks of 
hers. She had thrust her hands into her uni¬ 
form pockets, she was lurching slightly on one 
foot. But, to Helena’s astonishment, she re¬ 
plied at once with perfect steadiness, in a gentle 
voice: 

‘‘I’m sorry that anything my friends did 
should have been annoying-” 

‘‘Just answer my question.” 

“But,” continued Aline calmly, “I’m sure 
you’ll be glad to know that they were talking 
about something that really is quite all right. 
Some rather important discoveries are being 
made about Felicity Hull’s lost family, Mrs. 
Jerrold. At least, I think they are important.” 

“You do? I should be much interested to 
know them. ” 

The tone was much too ironical for the polite 
form of the language, and did not deceive Aline 




DEADLOCK 


143 


at all. At the same time she sensed the fact that 
for some reason Mrs. Jerrold bore less of a 
grudge against her than against Felicity. She 
replied cautiously, for the reason was a com¬ 
plete mystery to her: 

“The discoveries are chiefly about those du¬ 
plicate cards.’ ’ 

“Cards! What cards!” 

“Old ship-cards.” 

“Whose are they!” 

“One is Felicity’s—she has it framed, it was 
her father’s—and one belongs to one of the 
girls. We’re comparing them to get informa¬ 
tion. ’ ’ 

“Comparing duplicates to get information!” 

“One end of each is torn off,” explained 
Aline patiently, “so the ends give different in¬ 
formation.” 

“WFat sort of information!” 

“Quite miscellaneous,” answered Aline 
warily. 

“Are you identifying duplicate cards, then, 
by means of miscellaneous information!” 

“No.” Aline spoke point-blank without los¬ 
ing her temper, which she must have been 
tempted to do. WTiat a nagger Mrs. Jerrold 
was! “The cards are duplicates . On each one 
there’s a green acorn, in the same spot. I 
think it looks like a firm’s trade-mark.” 

This was news to Helena. Aline had never 
said anything of the sort before, but then her 




144 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


mind never seemed to stop turning over its 
problem, sometimes with unexpected results. 
Mrs. Jerrold, having encountered an obstacle, 
tried a new tack. 

“Do you think you ought to pry into Fe¬ 
licity’s affairs?” 

“I’m not prying. Felicity knows I take an 
interest in her history, and she is glad someone 
does.” 

“I am afraid it is not so kind as you think, 
to put into her head fancies that she is some¬ 
one important—fancies that can never become 
realities.” 

“I never put any in,” said Aline sincerely, 
more thankful than ever for having decided on 
secrecy. 

“My dear child, don’t you see that it is per¬ 
fectly impossible that a young girl, entirely in¬ 
experienced as you are, should, after many 
years, find out a lost family history?” 

Aline was silent, but she took her hands out 
of her pockets, and stood up straight. 

“Answer me, Aline. Don’t you see that it’s 
an absurd, romantic idea?” 

“No, Mrs. Jerrold,” said Aline quietly and 
respectfully. “I don’t exactly see that, in these 
circumstances. ’ ’ 

“Then I presume,” said Mrs. Jerrold acidly, 
“that you are perfectly contented with all these 
discoveries you talk so much about. Have they 




DEADLOCK 


145 


told yon who Felicity Hull is? I thought not. 
How do you expect to find out, then?” 

Aline looked thoughtfully at the floor. 

“I haven’t finished yet,” she said gently. 

1 ‘What’s my mind for?” 

This rather large question was put with such 
complete innocence that Mrs. Jerrold was at 
first stunned rather than irritated. She tacked 
again. 

“My dear child, you’re trying to do some¬ 
thing very risky. Suppose you could succeed in 
tracing Felicity’s family, just for the sake of 
the argument. She mightn’t like her people 
at all.” 

“She liked her father. He was a very good 
man.” 

“Even so, she has now risen, even in her 
humble position, to a walk in life far beyond 
his. He was a common laborer, wandering 
from city to city. ’ ’ 

“I think not,” said Aline reflectively, drop¬ 
ping her eyes again to the floor. “He was evi¬ 
dently a skilled mechanic of some special sort— 
traveling from Philadelphia to Brooklyn—to 
get a position at his own kind of work. They 
are very different cities—nothing a bit alike 
about them, except—I wonder—he had a ship- 
card that he kept in a carved frame with a 
whale’s —could he have been a shipwright at 
the two navy yards?” 

“Well!” cried Mrs. Jerrold in a tone of 




146 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


astonishment and vexation that should have 
warned Aline, had she not been so engrossed in 
her own thoughts. Helena looked on in real 
fright. Aline was much too clever to suit the 
stout lady with the sandy hair, but alas! at the 
same time, she was not adroit enough to conceal 
her cleverness. 

‘ ‘Well!’ ’ repeated Mrs. Jerrold. 6 ‘ And what 
other theories have you evolved in that wonder¬ 
ful mind of yours about the Hulls ? ’ ’ 

Helena, in an agony of suspense, shifted her 
position suddenly, thrusting forward the toe 
of one of her slippers, hopeful that it might 
come within the range of Aline ’s gaze, which 
was still on the floor. Mrs. Jerrold, behind the 
desk, could not see it. Mercifully Aline did. 
She looked up. In the smallest possible frac¬ 
tion of an instant a glance shot between the 
two girls. “She knows nothing about the sil¬ 
houette—don’t tell her!” signaled Helena’s. 
“I’m not going to,” returned Aline’s. 

Mrs. Jerrold caught the glance. 

“You may go home now, Helena!” she 
snapped. “This affair evidently concerns 
Aline more than it does you, but I wish to warn 
you, in case you take an interest in it, as would 
be natural for so young and inexperienced a 
person, that I should be very sorry to have to 
make an unfavorable report on your conduct to 
your aunt.” 

Helena, planning to await Aline on the flight 




DEADLOCK 


147 


of steps below the office, dashed upstairs for 
their hats so they could both leave quickly to¬ 
gether. As she waited she could hear Mrs. Jer- 
rold’s voice booming through the door, also 
Aline’s fainter voice replying in brief sentences. 
How painful, how unjust, the whole situation 
was! Helena rebelled frantically against it, 
but she was helpless. What would happen to 
Aline? She certainly would not give away all 
her half-solved secrets, Helena well knew, yet, 
if she refused to satisfy Mrs. Jerrold, she might 
never go back to the Golden Samovar—Felic¬ 
ity’s mysterious history, now half-emerging, 
might sink back forever into darkness. 

Trembling with anxiety, her eyes fixed on 
the doorway into the sunlit street below her, 
Helena waited on the stairs. And suddenly, his 
advent preceded by a cheerful burst of whis¬ 
tling, his spectacles a-glitter, a neat bundle un¬ 
der his arm, appeared Andrew Burchard in a 
smart gray spring suit, plunging northward 
along Broad Street, all set for any adventure. 

A life-preserver is easily recognizable on 
sight, and, like Jo and Herk until lately, a 
drowning person does not say “Please!” but 
grabs. Helena, the dignified, the capable, the 
self-sufficient, reached the bottom of the stair¬ 
case before Andrew had got past the doorway, 
and from her lips broke the agonized request: 

“Oh, help me, won’t you?” 

Andrew stopped short in such amazement 




148 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


that he got his hand only about two-thirds of 
the way to his hat and left it there in mid-air. 
Helena was the picture of woe—an attractive 
picture, even so. 

‘ 1 What on earth is the matter?” 

“Oh, everything!” 

“Well, begin with one thing,” suggested An¬ 
drew with sound sense. 

“Listen, then! You know that picture Fe¬ 
licity has on her mantel? Well, it’s a clipper - 
card -” 

(Profound sensation on the part of An¬ 
drew.) 

“Wait! Through finding that out, we—a lot 
of us girls—think we’re on the trail of finding 
out about Felicity’s lost family-” 

(Further sensation, sharply checked by Hel¬ 
ena.) 

“Listen to me! Mrs. Jerrold has found this 
out and is furious with Aline. I can’t imagine 
why she seems so annoyed about Felicity! It 
was Aline’s idea to help Felicity, you see, and 
I know you’d want to, too, because you’re such 
a friend of hers. Fortunately she’s gone to the 
country this afternoon, so she’s not upstairs. 
But she’s trying to find out a very important 
secret Aline knows about Felicity, and won’t 
tell, and I’m afraid she’s going to discharge 
her. They’re in the office, and I can’t get her 
out. ’ ’ 

“I get you!” cried Andrew, diving straight 




DEADLOCK 


149 


through this welter of pronouns. “I'll fix it!” 

In three bounds he was at the head of the 
stairs, and carefully placing the door of the 
little office open at its full width, he marched 
in and launched a flank attack. 




CHAPTER XI 

IN THE LOG OP THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 

“T BEG your pardon. One of the young 
ladies said—Great Scott!” 

Andrew’s impressive, low-pitched voice 
ceased abruptly, and he staggered back against 
the office partition with a crash that sounded, 
and doubtless looked, very dramatic. Helena, 
halted halfway up the stairs, waited breath¬ 
lessly for the next development. It was An¬ 
drew’s voice again. 

“I do hope you can excuse me, you must 
think I’m crazy! But you must be—yes, you 
are —the lady that ran that canteen down South 
at Orville, where they had cocoanut layer cake 
five stories high!” 

“Why, I am that lady,” admitted Mrs. Jer- 
rold with an accent of proud pleasure no one 
at the Golden Samovar had ever heard before, 
“and that cake was my specialty. But surely 
you couldn’t quite have been one of those splen¬ 
did soldiers?” 


150 


IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 15 % 


“Oh, no, I was in my cradle then,” returned 
Andrew, with more poetry than truth, “but my 
brother was in the army and he told me that the 
men talked about that cake all over France, 
and I knew the lady that managed the canteen 
was named Mrs. Jerrold, and then when I 
looked at this address on my package and re¬ 
membered that some canteen lady owned the 
Golden Samovar, as everyone knows, I just 
broke right out! Please do forgive me!” 

Mrs. Jerrold seemed very willing to. 

“I suppose you and your brother are not 
New Yorkers, if he trained at Orville?” she 
next observed graciously. 

“No, Pm living in Brooklyn. It's in the op¬ 
posite direction from San Francisco, you 
know.” 

Well, the old jokes are ever the dearest. 
Mercifully released as though by some hidden 
spring, Aline at this instant suddenly darted 
through the doorway of the office, saw Helena 
standing below her, and was beside her the 
next second, Mrs. Jerrold’s appreciative* 
chuckles drowning her footsteps. 

“Hurry, let’s get out of this!” she breathed,* 
snatching her hat from Helena’s hand. 

“No, I’m going to hear the rest,” declared 
Helena perversely. 

“So, since you liked the Brown Magic coffee* 
so much,” said Andrew’s best professional 
voice, “no doubt you would like to try this> Son 




152 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


of Heaven tea. Of course it’s just for your 
personal use, this sort. We have lots of excel¬ 
lent inexpensive teas which are just the thing 
for your customers—ha, ha!” 

“Helena, come! He’s trying to give us time 
to get away,” whispered Aline, dragging her 
friend down the steps to the street. “What an 
escape!” 

“How did you ever manage to leave?” 

“He said to, at a good time. He’s a won¬ 
der!” 

“Why, he never said a word of the sort! I 
heard everything.” 

“Oh, well—he winked. Anyway, I couldn’t 
stay there any longer when he started to flour¬ 
ish his tea at Mrs. Jerrold, could I? It was 
none of my business. Did you ever hear of such 
luck as his coming in just at that moment?” 

“Luck?” repeated Helena indignantly, al¬ 
most stopping at the corner. “Luck? I got 
him. ’ ’ 

“Where from?” 

“Why, he was passing.” This, of course, 
did not count, as luck. “I had to do something, 
Aline. I told him part of our discoveries, about 
Felicity’s card, you know, and the next thing 
that happened was that you shot out of the 
door! What did Mrs. Jerrold say?” 

“I’m on probation. She’s going to watch 
me. I’m such a nice girl that she’s sorry. I 
wouldn’t tell her anything, and she said it was 




IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 153 


terrible to be obstinate, and she hoped she 
wouldn’t have to tell Felicity not to pay any 
attention to me.’’ 

Aline sighed, and looked considerably shaken 
up. 

* i Well, will you please tell me what business 
this is of hers, anyway? I’ve been wondering 
for some time,” observed Helena severely. 

1 ‘Oh, she explained that. She says Felicity 
ought just to attend to business, and so ought 
we, and she can ’t have her routine upset by our 
fancies. She said it hadn’t been so far, but 
this was a warning. I do hope she won’t say 
anything against me to Felicity! Even if I 
could never get any further in tracing her fam¬ 
ily, I do want her friendship.” 

“Nonsense, Aline, Mrs. Jerrold only talks 
that way to show she can! ’ ’ scoffed Helena, not 
entirely at ease, however, in her own mind, 
anxious as she was to comfort her rather 
stricken friend. “Anyway, you’ll get further, 
don’t worry. You did right then and there 
when she was talking. Really, you shouldn’t 
spill out such floods of bright ideas—it’s bad 
form!” 

Aline had just managed to pierce the gloom 
with a faint smile when both she and Helena 
turned involuntarily at the sound of running 
behind them. Andrew had overtaken them at 
the corner of Wall Street, with victory perched 
on his banners. 




154 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Well, thank you for saving my life!” cried 
Aline warmly. 

“It worked all right, didn’t it?” said An¬ 
drew with an air of detachment. “Bluffs do, 
sometimes. I never bank on ’em, but some¬ 
times they’re all right.” 

“What was the bluff?” inquired Aline 
dazedly. Helena groaned. 

“Don’t tell us about your mind any more,” 
she advised. 

Andrew grinned. 

“I had to assume that Mrs. Jerrold didn’t 
know me,” he explained, “but I didn’t believe 
she did because she always sits inside the pri¬ 
vate office during lunch time. The cake was 
true. I did hear about it, and everybody knows 
about that canteen.” 

“I thought it was odd,” said Aline reflec¬ 
tively, “that you knew so much about the camp 
at Orville when your brother was from New 
York State. And wasn’t it queer that you 
should have had some tea addressed to Mrs. 
Jerrold at that very second?” 

“Say,” inquired Andrew with great interest, 
“don’t you ever check your analytical mind in 
the baggage-room ? ” 

“I guess I won’t use it any more to-day,” an¬ 
nounced Aline, at last bursting into a hearty 
laugh at herself, much to Helena’s relief. “I’m 
going up the hill to the subway, and straight 
home. But you’re not, are you, Helena?” 




IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 155 


* ‘No, Pm going to the stores, so Pll take the 
other subway. Good-by, Aline. ’ 9 

“Don’t tell the world everything you know,” 
advised Andrew, bestowing a respectful greet¬ 
ing, nevertheless, on the departing heroine. 

“But she didn’t tell everything,” remarked 
Helena loyally, as she and Andrew turned down 
the hill to the other subway. 

“That’s so, you said something like that.” 

Helena reflected one instant, and then made 
a swift decision. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to tell you 
now what I didn’t have time to tell you before 
about what we think we know regarding Fe¬ 
licity. I would like your advice, if it’s not too 
much to ask after all you’ve done already. ’ ’ 

“I shall be much honored,” said Andrew 
with grave sincerity, “but are you sure you 
feel like it right now? I think that row has 
worn you out. ’ ’ 

“I don’t know why I should be tired,” con¬ 
fessed Helena. “The row didn’t especially 
concern me. Oh, I forgot!” 

“You didn’t have any lunch!” accused An¬ 
drew. 

“How did you know?” 

“Girls always do crazy things like that.” 

“This wasn’t crazy,” explained Helena in¬ 
dignantly, “on Saturdays I never have lunch 
until after we close up, because we always close 
early. I wasn’t going to wait for it to-day.” 




156 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Never mind, here’s the place to have some,” 
said Andrew briskly, and piloted Helena 
straight into a strangely agreeable room whose 
plate-glass windows looked out on the street 
from the very building the two had been pass¬ 
ing. Here, in appetizing array, dozens on doz¬ 
ens of different kinds of sandwiches and cakes, 
salads, and other tempting dishes too numerous 
to mention were set forth on wide counters. 
This restaurant was evidently the home of 
honor. One chose one ’s own food, and confided 
the amount of the check to a trusting cashier. 

“What’ll you have?” inquired Andrew 
solicitously. * ‘ Tea ? Girls always like tea. ’ 9 

“Not at a quarter of two in the afternoon!” 
laughed Helena, much impressed with An¬ 
drew’s profound knowledge of girls. “Since 
you’re so kind, I’ll have one of those sand¬ 
wiches.” 

In a twinkling sandwiches and milk were be¬ 
fore her, while Andrew kept her company by 
applying himself to a Charlotte Russe with a 
fervor which reminded her of Winthrop Jer- 
rold and his cream-cakes. 

Then, standing at the little round table— 
sitting down was evidently bad form in this 
otherwise hospitable eating-place—Helena told 
Andrew every detail in the chain of evidence 
that circumstances had woven about Felicity. 

“Now,” concluded Helena, “you know every¬ 
thing anybody knows. What would you do 




IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 157 


next? We all are just waiting, for we don’t 
know how to go on from this point, though it 
seems to me we’ve really found out a good 
deal.” 

“You certainly have,” agreed Andrew. He 
swallowed half a lady-finger reflectively, and 
then continued: “It seems to me that the one 
definite link you may have between Felicity’s 
father and the past is the name of that ship, the 
Ocean Monarch. All your other ideas—about 
her father’s work, and that silhouette, for in¬ 
stance—are first-rate, but you haven’t anything 
to tie ’em together with. Do you see? I’d find 
out all I could about that ship. ’ ’ 

“How could you? It must have vanished 
long ago.” 

“Excuse me one second, and maybe I can do 
something,” said Andrew rather abruptly. He 
disappeared into a telephone booth at one side 
of the room, and after a session of several min¬ 
utes, came back rather purple but also rather 
pleased. 

“I called up a man who’s a friend of mine 
at the Maritime Exchange. You know what 
that is, of course—it’s right across Broad 
Street from your shop. ’ ’ 

“No,” said Helena meekly, “that’s probably 
the reason I don’t!” 

“Well, the Maritime Exchange keeps records 
of all ships and their movements on the oceans 
all over the world, and this old chap I know 





158 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


there has been doing that for forty years or so 
and knows all about all kinds of vessels that 
ever existed. I told him to dig out Vol. 10,000, 
Clippe — Clipper, and see if it said anything 
about Ocean Monarch and I would be on the 
wire until further notice, but he said right off 
that he knew all about the Ocean Monarch, be¬ 
cause there had never been a ship like it in its 
day. And now, catch hold of something! He 
said it was so famous that it was one of the 
clipper-ships whose log has been preserved!’ ’ 

“Good gracious! Where is it?” Helena 
clutched the table. 

“You can let go now!” Andrew had the air 
of breaking bad news as gently as possible. 
“Pm sorry to say it’s in the Murray library.” 

1 * I don’t see what difference that makes . 9 9 

“You don’t?” 

“No. Of course it’s a private library, but 
owners of those places let people look at the 
books who have a good reason for wanting to.” 

“I’m afraid old ‘Lockout’ Murray doesn’t. 
Of course he’s a famous collector—buys up all 
kinds of valuable books—but that’s the last 
anyone sees of them. That’s his reputation. 
There the books stay in his pink marble palace 
on Lenox Hill, just to amuse him. See the 
daily papers for information!” 

“Anybody that has a letter from my uncle, 
Mr. Marsden, can get into that old pink palace, ’ ’ 
announced Helena with polite contempt. 




IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 159 


“Books are my uncle’s business, nobody knows 
much more about them than he does, and Mr. 
Murray heard about a good many of his first 
through my uncle, who got them for him! If 
the Ocean Monarch’s log is in the Murray 
library, we can find out to-morrow what it 
says.” 

“What! Are you Mr. Henry Marsden’s 
niece?” cried Andrew with flattering interest, 
surprised out of his usual calm. 

For an instant Helena was disconcerted. Her 
old feeling of having been wronged swept over 
her. She realized that Andrew had seen in his 
daily papers the accounts of her aunt’s ostenta¬ 
tious social efforts, sometimes made—oh, bliss! 
—in the company of no less a person than Mrs. 
G. Witherbee Jerrold, while she, Helena Haw¬ 
thorne, a school girl, worked in a humble posi¬ 
tion dependent on the good will of the said 
Mrs. Jerrold. Then the next instant, suddenly 
and forever, that feeling fled. In the last few 
months, Helena had seen too much of Aline 
Gaines, of Felicity Hull, and of Andrew Burch- 
ard himself, not to have learned the value of 
self-respect, and that it was more worth while 
than self-confidence or self-esteem. 

“I am Mr. Marsden’s niece,” she assented. 
“My mother is his sister, and as my father is 
dead and my brother is a little boy, I am for¬ 
tunate, I think, to be able to work part time 




160 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


down here while I’m getting my school diploma. 
My uncle has done many kind things for me. 
I'm sure he’ll help us get hold of the Ocean 
Monarch log when I tell him why we want to." 

“I should think he might. That would be 
great luck," said Andrew respectfully. “It's 
certainly worth seeing whether the log would 
have any information for 1853 that would be 
useful to you. By the way, speaking of logs, 
did that little brother of yours carve that beau¬ 
tiful wooden chain you have on?" 

“Yes," replied Helena laughing, “didn’t he 
do it nicely? And there’s to be more of it, but 
at present the rest is a secret." 

“Let’s hope the future will reveal many se¬ 
crets!" cried Andrew dramatically. “And 
now," as Helena turned toward the door and 
led the way out into the street, “if you really 
won’t have anything more, I think I’ll beat it 
after that tea." 

“What tea?" 

“That Son of Heaven tea. That package I 
gave Mrs. Jerrold was really meant for Mr. 
Wakefield’s mother," explained Andrew. 
“She’s giving a reception this afternoon, and 
as the tea just came in this morning I offered 
to take it up to her, and was on my way there 
when I met you. She’s expecting it. It’s an 
extremely fine brand—only descendants of 
Chinese emperors can pick it when February 
twenty-ninth is Thursday, or something like 




IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 161 


that. So I’ll just toddle down and break into 
the office and get some more.” 

“What a pity you had to give it to Mrs. Jer- 
rold!” 

“No, indeed, Mr. Wakefield is anxious for 
her custom, and I can fix this all up with him.’ 9 
So much had Andrew “fixed” that afternoon 
that Helena did not doubt him. * 1 Well, good-by. 
Tell me what happens. Pm interested.” 

“Good-by. I don’t know how to thank you— 
for everything: the rescue and the advice and 
the sandwiches,” said Helena prettily. “But I 
knew you’d want to help Felicity.” 

“I want to help you—you two girls,” re¬ 
turned Andrew carefully. “Good-by again.” 

Helena promptly abandoned her plan of 
shopping that afternoon, and instead paid a 
visit to her uncle. The need of quick action in 
Felicity’s case was plain. Mrs. Jerrold’s hos¬ 
tility, she knew, would cease only if Aline 
stopped her investigation, which Aline would 
not do, so that Mrs. Jerrold would find some 
way of preventing further progress in Felic¬ 
ity’s behalf. Mr. Marsden, as Helena had said, 
was kind. It only required a simple, careful ex¬ 
planation of why a glimpse at the log of the 
Ocean Monarch might bring great happiness to 
a solitary girl, and the proposal that Rose Wil¬ 
ling should be asked to handle the old book, to 
cause Mr. Marsden to conduct a persuasive con¬ 
versation over the telephone with the inacces- 




162 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


sible Mr. “Lockout” Murray. Helena was not 
greatly astonished at being able to carry home 
a letter introducing Miss Rose Willing, a young 
lady thoroughly familiar with the handling of 
antiques, to the librarian of “that old pink 
palace.” 

The next few days passed uncomfortably, as 
a time of uncertainty always passes. Virginia 
and Muriel and Joyce were so remorseful at 
the result of their indiscretion, and tried to 
formulate so many utterly wild plans to undo 
the damage, that Aline and Helena had to for¬ 
give them, and to explain that so long as the 
matter remained hidden from Felicity, the 
worst had not happened. And remain hidden 
it did, for Mrs. Jerrold, for some reason or 
other, did not mention it again to either of 
them, and life at the Golden Samovar flowed on 
in its usual admirable channels. 

Helena and Aline had just reached home 
early in the afternoon after one of these out¬ 
wardly peaceful days when gray-eyed Rose 
came rushing into Straiton Court with a speed 
that made her green silk scarf stand almost 
straight out behind her in the wind. Aline, 
noting her through the sitting-room window, 
had the door open before she could ring. 

“Oh,” gasped Rose, “are you both here?” 

“Yes, it’s my free afternoon,” replied Aline. 
“Rose, what’s the matter? You haven’t 
been-” 



IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 163 


“Yes, I have been to the Murray library. It 
was the first day I could go, you know. I wish 
it had been sooner!” 

“Did you find anything?” asked Helena 
eagerly, joining the two girls in the hall. 

“Yes.” 

* 4 Then come and let’s sit down and hear it.’ 9 

44 But it isn’t at all what you’ll expect,” said 
Rose with a final gasp, sitting down. 4 4 They 
were lovely to me down in the library, so lovely 
that I thought I should absolutely never be able 
to break away. Helena, you owe your uncle 
something for this. Now, look here: I read the 
whole log of the Ocean Monarch . It’s a quaint 
old thick leather book, all in handwriting, of 
course, and there’s nothing in it that we could 
care about except this entry, which I copied: 

44 ‘October 25, 1853 / ” 

4 4 What, 1853?” cried Aline and Helena with 
one voice. 

44 Yes. Listen: 

4 4 4 Round Cape Horn. Weather fair. Heavy 
swells. Sighted wreckage and survivors aport. 
Despatched lifeboat in command of ship’s 
boatswain. Crew: Nils Nilssen, Dennis O ’Hara, 
Achille Rigaud, Diego Reyes, ordinary seamen, 
and Garet Hornsby, cabin-boy. Picked up three 
survivors, man, woman, and infant boy. Adults 
both unconscious. No information obtainable 
regarding wreck. 




164 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“ ‘October 26, 1853: Woman survivor of 
wreck died of exposure, and was buried at 
sea" 

1 ‘ Then we were wrong,’ 9 cried Aline as Rose 
finished, “for you see Anne Farnham did not 
go down on the Ocean Monarch" 

“Oh, no, the ship had a long, honorable rec¬ 
ord/ 9 said Rose. “She sailed for years and 
years after 1853.” 

“Just what was it made you copy that part 
of the log?” asked Helena, frowning in a per¬ 
plexity she could not explain at the moment. 
“Not just the date, Rose?” 

“The date taken in connection with the infant 
boy," answered Rose slowly. “I thought of 
Felicity’s father, you know.” 

“Exactly!” cried Aline triumphantly, and 
light broke over Helena at the same instant. 
“Why should Felicity’s father have that 1853 
card of the Ocean Monarch, the year when he 
was about two years old? It’s the same old 
question that all the discoveries lead back to! 
Could—oh, could the Ocean Monarch have been 
the rescue-ship that saved Anne Farnham 9 a 
baby?” 

The idea, hazily formed in both the other 
girls’ minds, and clearly formulated by Aline, 
left them all speechless and gazing at one an¬ 
other, each waiting for someone else to make 
the next suggestion. But it came from none of 




IN LOG OF THE “OCEAN MONARCH” 165 


them. Gordon, hearing their voices, came run¬ 
ning downstairs. He snatched his cap off the 
rack, and paused a moment at the sitting-room 
door. 

“So long, Helena, Pm going to—oh, hold on 
a second! I’ve finished the thing for your 
chain.” He dived into a deep pocket and pro¬ 
duced a prettily carved green-painted object, 
which he held aloft proudly. “This is the sur¬ 
prise! It’s made out of a little walnut. You 
hang it on the bottom of the chain, for a pend¬ 
ant, by this little loop. It’s nice, isn’t it? This 
is the famous Green Acorn of the great Acorn 
Line!” 

i 1 Gordon Hawthorne, come here! ’’ cried Hel¬ 
ena, and clutched both the acorn and the artist. 
“What do you mean by talking about green 
acorns? And where are you going?” 

“Let go of me!” protested Gordon, aggrieved 
at this strange reception of his tribute. “Pm 
just going round to have a carving lesson from 
Ship’s Carpenter Hornsby!” 




CHAPTER XII 

WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 

H ELENA, stunned by Gordon’s last sen¬ 
tence, relaxed her hold on him, and he 
promptly made off with a banging of 
the front door which rocked the house. For 
one instant only did the three girls sit staring 
at one another, and the next second Helena 
cried: 

‘ 1 Hornsby — Ship’s Carpenter Hornsby! 
Rose, you read that name out of the log.” 

“ ‘Garet Hornsby, cabin-boy,’ ” repeated 
Rose, “and did that old Mr. Hornsby, the sex¬ 
ton, teach Gordon to carve a green acorn ? ’ ’ 
“Yes, and it must be the trademark of the 
line the Ocean Monarch belonged to, just as 
Aline thought from seeing it on the clipper- 
cards,” gasped Helena. “Do you suppose that 

old Mr. Hornsby-” 

“I’m going to find out,” announced Aline, 
picking up her hat again. ‘ ‘ Good-by. ’ ’ 

“Indeed, I’m coming too,” declared Helena. 
166 


WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 167 


“So am I,” cried Rose. “Come along, let’s 
hurry !’ 9 

“Where are you girls going?” cried Vir¬ 
ginia’s voice from the upper reaches of the 
stair-well as the trio rushed out into the hall. 
“Ooo-hoo, Rose! Did you get hack alive from 
Mr. Murray’s library? Then wait a second!” 
And in less than the time specified, Virginia 
had joined the impatient group by the front 
door via the banisters. “Helena, where’d you 
get the green acorn pendant?” 

Exactly one-half moment later she proclaimed 
vociferously: 

“We’re coming too! Joyce! Muriel! Come 
along down quickly, and bring my hat. Oh, 
find it! It’s up there somewhere. We’re go¬ 
ing round to the little church to see old Mr. 
Hornsby, and this time we’re really going to 
find out who Felicity is! ” 

“Why, Virginia, the idea! You don’t know 
whether we are or not! ’ ’ chided Aline, as Joyce 
and Muriel came downstairs swiftly by Vir¬ 
ginia’s route. 

“Oh, but I feel so much about it!” cried Vir¬ 
ginia with heartrending pathos which it seemed 
as if Fate itself would have hesitated to dis¬ 
appoint. “And I’ve felt the most since that 
day we three made the break at the Golden 
Samovar. Well, they do say lots of unlikely 
things turn out for the best.” 

“Come along, let’s hurry, there are Dorothy 



168 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


and Evelyn waiting for us outside/’ put in 
Joyce tactfully. 

“Why, how on earth do they know any¬ 
thing f” began Rose. 

“They were in Dorothy’s room cramming 
for an exam, and we yelled to them across the 
court to come along. Let’s stop for Priscilla / 9 
suggested Muriel. 

So it came to pass about five minutes later 
that the side yard of the little church on the 
quiet street near Willett Parkway was invaded 
by nine excited girls who were making great 
efforts to appear calm. Gordon was sitting on 
the newly trimmed grass plot beside the open 
door of the sexton’s office, busy with a knife 
and the lid of a cigar-box, while white-haired 
Mr. Hornsby, handsome and scarcely wrinkled 
after eighty-two years of excitement, stretched 
his long spare limbs out comfortably in his old 
Morris chair which he had moved out into the 
warm spring air, and was plainly enjoying his 
audience as much as his audience enjoyed him. 

“So,” he was concluding, “we ran before the 
gale with our lee rail under water for six days, 
but we got away from them Chinese pirates 
with our whole cargo of oil!” 

“They never could catch an American clip¬ 
per-ship!” cried Gordon boastfully. 

“Nobody could,” amended Mr. Hornsby, 
just even to pirates. 

Then they heard the girls’ footsteps, and 



WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 169 


both looked up, Mr. Hornsby with the delight¬ 
ful social manner of the hospitable Southerner 
at any age, Gordon with some truculence at 
finding his masculine paradise invaded. 

1 * Go on carving, Gordon, this won’t bother 
you!” cried Helena, quickly. “Good-after¬ 
noon, Mr. Hornsby! I hope you don’t mind 
such a lot of callers! I’m Gordon’s sister— 
these are my friends.” 

“Ladies always welcome,” smiled Mr. 
Hornsby gallantly. “ Won’t you all sit down 1 ’ ’ 

“Yes, thank you, but don’t bother to get us 
seats,” protested Priscilla. “We’ll sit on the 
grass and the window-sills and the fence. We 
came over to ask you something special, Mr. 
Hornsby. Did you ever, when you were at sea, 
sail on a ship called the Ocean Monarch ?” 

“Did I ever—” began Mr. Hornsby, but Gor¬ 
don, beaming suddenly like one who recognizes 
an old friend, cried out, before the old man 
could finish: 

“Oh, Mr. Hornsby, tell about your first turn¬ 
around when you sailed the seas aboard the 
Ocean Monarch /” 

“Ladies first, Gordon,” suggested Mr. 
Hornsby instructively. “Yes, I sailed aboard 
the Ocean Monarch eight years, and I rose from 
cabin-boy to be ship’s carpenter.” 

“Well, Mr. Hornsby, I’m ever so interested 
to hear that,” remarked Rose, “because to-day 
I had the log of the vessel right in my hands.” 




170 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“You don’t say so!” 

“Yes, it’s down in the famous Murray library 
and I went there to look something up. Did 
you know your name was in it as cabin-boy?” 

“Then the record must be about my first 
turn-around,” cried Mr. Hornsby delightedly, 
“for I didn’t stay cabin-boy after that; next 
trip I was apprentice seaman! Do you want 
to hear about my first trip ? ’ ’ 

“Yes!” cried ten voices unanimously, and 
nine added: “Please!” 

“When I was fifteen years old,” began Mr. 
Hornsby with gusto, “I was cabin-boy aboard 
the Ocean Monarch!” 

“WTiat ship was she?” cried Gordon, evi¬ 
dently repeating part of a ritual. 

“She was the pride of the port of New York 
in the fifties, the fastest clipper afloat! She 
was the crack flyer between New York and the 
California gold-fields, and one of the biggest 
of the clippers, 2421 tons burden, 258 feet long. 
She had the longest and sharpest ends of any 
ship afloat and the best captain—Captain Philip 
Stanley—and a full crew of ninety-eight men 
and ten cabin-boys.” 

“How did you come to be a cabin-boy, Mr. 
Hornsby?” Gordon came right in at the cor¬ 
rect moment with the proper question. 

“Why, I went up from Charleston, South 
Carolina, where I was born, to live with my 
uncle in New York after my mother died, for 




WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 171 


you see my father was a petty officer in the 
navy, and his ship was stationed off the Pacific 
coast a long time. I used to go down and play 
with the other boys around the big docks down 
on South Street, where the clippers all tied 
up, for New York was the great port for out¬ 
going travelers to California then, and one day 
in the summer of 1853, when the Ocean Mon¬ 
arch had just made port again after having 
broken the west-bound record so far that year 
on her outward voyage, I went to Captain 
Stanley and asked him if I could sign up for a 
voyage. I told him my father had recently 
written that he had got his discharge after 
eleven years’ service in the navy, and had gone 
up to the gold-fields and struck a pay-streak, 
and as I hadn’t seen him for a number of years, 
I thought it would be a good chance to work 
my passage aboard a clipper.” 

“You were smart to think of that!” cried 
Gordon. 

“I’ve always made out somehow! Well, Cap¬ 
tain Stanley said he’d take me, and I was a 
proud boy the day we raised anchor off the 
Battery and put out to sea with the great 
crowds cheering on the sea-wall. The Ocean 
Monarch always had a great send-off, just like 
all the ships of the great Acorn Line. We had 
a green acorn for our trademark—ah, don’t it 
look handsome on that chain!—because all our 




172 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


ships were built of live-oak, which made them 
the strongest and safest afloat. 

“You should have seen the miners aboard, 
in broad, reddish-brown felt hats and high 
boots and rough coats, with bowie-knives and 
pistols, everybody off for two years or more, 
to make a fortune! Well, it was sixty-seven 
years ago, but it’s as clear as to-day to me. We 
struck a terrible storm off Valparaiso that tore 
away seventy feet of our foremast and main¬ 
mast, and four great sails on each mast. But 
Captain Stanley was a sea-captain out of Salem, 
and he rerigged the ship at sea in fourteen days, 
and even with that accident, we made San Fran¬ 
cisco in one hundred and two days. 

“He always had a kind of fancy for me, and 
he started me off to the gold-fields to see my 
father in a party of the best passengers from 
the ship. My father was in the northern section 
of the California mines, up on the South Fork 
of the American River. He was near where 
James Marshall, the millwright, found gold first 
in January, 1848, when he was building his mill- 
race at Coloma, about forty-five miles from 
where Sacramento is now, and saw the gold 
shining in the water. The trip took two weeks 
on mule-back from San Francisco. 

“Every night we camped out in the grandest 
pine-forests you ever heard of, and every day 
we met Indians, and trappers bringing their 
furs down to sell at San Francisco, and miners 




WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 173 


coming down with their hags of gold-dust. Then 
one day, down the trail came a whole company 
of men in rags, leading horses that were noth¬ 
ing but bones, and they hailed us and begged for 
so^ae food. Of course we gave it to them, and 
they just tore it with their teeth. Then one of 
them opened a bag and picked out about a pound 
of gold for payment. We didn’t take it, nat¬ 
urally. They had one hundred thousand dol¬ 
lars’ worth of gold with them, but they were 
starving! I wasn’t sorry when we climbed the 
last mountain-ridge, and down in the valley ap¬ 
peared a long line of miners’ tents along the 
South Fork. I soon found my father, and he 
was mighty glad to see me, and took me right 
out on his claim to dig for gold. 

“I took a pick, and in fifteen minutes I 
turned up a lump big enough to make a ring, 
and there’s the ring.” Mr. Hornsby extended 
the little finger of his left hand, and everyone 
gazed reverentially at the beaten nugget en¬ 
circling it. “My father had made a lucky 
strike, for his claim was only thirty feet square, 
but it was rich. Next it was a big claim eighty 
feet square. The man who owned it had gone 
up the river on business, and, without knowing, 
I started to dig there, but my father showed 
me a pick-ax lying in the middle of the claim, 
and said that a tool left that way was a sign of 
ownership, and nobody would touch a claim 
so marked. 




174 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“I worked with my father, and every day 
we each averaged about an ounce of gold, which 
was worth ten dollars at that time. It was a 
mighty exciting life. Soon, though, I saw my 
father didn’t want me to stay in the gold-fields. 
One evening I told him about the starving min¬ 
ers our party met on the way up to the gold¬ 
fields, and he said it was queer we’d met only 
one such company. Very, very many more, he 
said, had starved or died of scurvy or malarial 
fever, or had failed to find gold and gone home 
penniless and bitterly disappointed, than had 
made fortunes. Gold-mining in those days was 
mostly luck. If you found a pay-streak, all 
right, but if not, you had to keep moving until 
you did, and so lose all you’d saved. Then there 
were lots of bad characters among the miners, 
men that just wanted to get rich quick, and 
<?ared nothing about the country. Of course, 
there were fine men, too, who intended to make 
California their home, like the young fellow who 
had left the pick-ax on the next claim. He was 
just going to work out his claim, which had al¬ 
ready brought him in a tidy sum, and then set¬ 
tle and go into business when his wife and little 
son, who were coming out to join him, got there, 
and-” 

“Oh!” shrieked Virginia, bounding off a 
window-sill, “what was his name, Mr. Horns¬ 
by?” 

“Jinny! How could anyone remember that?” 



WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 175 


whispered Joyce protestingly, but Mr. Horns¬ 
by’s ear caught the words. 

“Sure I remember it!” he declared with a 
touch of asperity. “Why shouldn’t I remem¬ 
ber everything about my first turn-around? I 
told you everything was as clear as to-day to 
me. That young chap’s name was Jerrold— 
it was painted all over his boxes piled up along¬ 
side of my father’s tent. Though what that has 
to do with this story-” 

“Please excuse me, I’m sorry I asked—no, 
I’m not, but I shouldn’t have interrupted,” 
apologized Virginia accurately, retaining sur¬ 
prising presence of mind in a prevailing at¬ 
mosphere of near-panic. “Do go on, please, 
Mr. Hornsby, your story is the nicest I ever 
heard in all my life! ” 

“Well, my father thought he, too, would just 
work out his claim,” continued Mr. Hornsby, 
restored to high good humor, “and then come 
back East with his savings and make a home 
for me. Of course I was disappointed, but I 
did like the life on the sea, so I agreed to try 
to go back with Captain Stanley and wait for 
my father in New York. 

“When I got back to San Francisco, I found 
the Ocean Monarch still in port. As usual, most 
all the crew Captain Stanley had brought out 
had deserted to the gold-fields the minute the 
ship made port, and the only men he could get 
for the return trip were disappointed or wanted 




176 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


to fly the country for some reason, so he was 
glad to take me back. Finally we sailed, with a 
cargo of hides and a few returning miners, and 
an awful crew. Captain Stanley had his hands 
full, I can tell you, for not over a dozen of those 
men knew the first thing about sailing, and two 
of them were lost overboard, and one fell from 
the maintopgallant-yard to the deck and was 
killed, before we reached the Horn. And if 
we’d been one day earlier getting there, we’d 
have lost the ship sure with that fearful crew, 
because we were following in the wake of an 
awful storm—and we were luckier, ’ ’ murmured 
Mr. Hornsby, “than some others. 

“I was passing down the deck with the Cap¬ 
tain’s breakfast-tray one morning when we 
were off the Horn and the sea was covered with 
low, wide swells, and I looked out over the port 
rail, and saw something that made me drop 
the tray smash on the deck. It was the sunlight 
on a bright gold-colored spot in the sea. I tore 
to the captain’s cabin and shouted: ‘Someone 
overboard aport, sir! Captain, it’s a woman!’ 

“Next thing I knew, I was in a life-boat with 
the bos ’n and several of the better sailors. The 
Captain would never have sent me if he could 
have spared a full boat’s crew, but I pulled a 
first-class oar for my size, and helped my best 
to shove the boat across the water fast. When 
we got near the woman, every man in the boat 




WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 177 


nearly dropped his oars, for—she was holding 
a baby!” 

“Oh-h-h!” gasped nine excited voices, and 
Mr. Hornsby, much pleased with the artistic 
effect of his narrative on his audience, pro¬ 
ceeded dramatically: 

“She was hanging to a piece of wreckage 
with one arm, and when we hailed her she 
didn’t reply. We brought up alongside of her, 
and the bos’n leaned over to grab her, but she 
had just reached the end of her strength, and 
let go the piece of wreckage at that second, but, 
as she went down, she shoved the baby into his 
hands. One of the sailors dived overboard and 
dragged her into the boat, and at that moment 
we heard a hail, and saw a man clinging to 
another piece of wreckage off in the distance. 
We pulled over for him, and then made back to 
the Ocean Monarch. 

“Captain Stanley gave up his own cabin to 
the woman, and did everything possible for her, 
but she already had pneumonia when she was 
brought on board, and was delirious, and died 
in a few hours. All we could tell about her 
was that she was an American lady. The man 
was unconscious when we got him aboard, but 
after awhile he came to. He was a sailor, but 
of all the bad luck! He was one of those awful 
ignorant foreigners who don’t know no Eng¬ 
lish—the clipper-ship crews, except cabin-boys 
and men aiming to become officers, had few 




178 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


Americans in them—and we couldn’t find out 
one thing about the wreck from him until finally 
our negro cook, who had served on a Brazilian 
ship, discovered that he spoke Portuguese. 
Even then he couldn’t pronounce the English 
name of his ship so we could make head or 
tail out of it, and of course he didn’t know who 
the woman passenger was. All we could find 
out was that the ship was a clipper bound for 
San Francisco, and had gone down the day 
before in a storm which was bound north, off 
the Horn. The Portuguese said that a number 
of the passengers and crew had managed to 
hang on to the wreckage for awhile, for the 
storm had passed quickly, but finally they had 
all gone down except himself and the woman 
and her baby. She had been very strong and 
very determined to save the child, and she had 
done it. 

“Well, there was nothing to do but bury that 
brave young woman and take care of her baby 
boy. I’ve never forgotten how beautiful she 
looked lying there in the Captain’s cabin, tall 
and straight, with her pure white face and long 
bright tawny hair, that I had seen glittering 
in the sun. Those dreadful tough sailors cried 
when they sewed her in the winding-sheet, and 
the Captain cried when he read the burial serv¬ 
ice, but the baby—I was holding him myself 
right there, beside the rail—just played with 
my gilt buttons and laughed all to himself. 




WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 179 


“He was a two-year-old with black curly 
hair, and as bright as any gilt button. I took 
care of him the rest of the trip, because he 
fancied me. He was always happy and full of 
tricks, so, as we didn’t know his name, we called 
him Jinks. Well, when we reached New York, 
the question was, what was to become of him. 
Captain Stanley was a bachelor, so the bos’n 
said he’d adopt him. ‘But,’ says the Captain, 
‘see here, Hull-’ 99 

“ Hull9 Hull!” cried a chorus, regardless 
of the effect of interruptions on Mr. Hornsby’s 
art, as so strong a link was forged in the evi¬ 
dence for Felicity. ‘ ‘ HULL! ’ ’ 

“Yes, Bos’n Hull, the best man on the ship 
after Captain Stanley. ‘Hull,’ says the Cap¬ 
tain, ‘you’ve got six children of your own al¬ 
ready, home in Boston—’ ‘Yes, but my wife 
ain’t satisfied with ’em,’ sighs the bos’n, dis¬ 
couraged. ‘Great sea-serpents, what’s the mat¬ 
ter with ’em all?’ asks the Captain. ‘There’s 
nothing the matter with any of ’em,’ says the 
bos’n, rather cold, ‘but the truth is that none of 
’em has curly hair!’ ‘I keep telling you women 
are that way!’ declares the Captain. ‘Well, 
anyhow,’ says Bos’n Hull, ‘my wife’ll like this 
fellow here with the black curls, and she ’ll take 
good care of him—women are that way, too!’ 

“So soon it was time for me to say good-by 
to Jinks, and you should have heard the howl 
he set up! I felt that bad myself I hardly knew 




180 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


what I was doing, but I saw a lot of our colored 
ship-advertisements lying on the Captain’s 
table, and I grabbed one and gave it to Jinks 
and told him to see the pretty picture. But he 
was mad, and a real fighter, and he tore the 
card straight in two and pitched part of it 
over the rail as the bos’n carried him ashore, 
and that was the last I ever saw of Jinks. 

“But I heard about him often for years 
afterwards, and it seemed that Mrs. Bos’n 
started off by curling his hair twice every day 
and finished by doing everything she could to 
make the poor little chap as happy as one of 
her own children. I heard about it from Bos’n 
Hull himself, for, you see, all my plans changed. 
My father was killed in a mine accident the 
month after I left him, and Captain Stanley, 
on hearing of this, offered to keep me on board 
the Ocean Monarch, so as long as he com¬ 
manded her. I sailed with him, and I rose to 
be ship’s carpenter. Then I left the sea, and 
went back home to Charleston, and afterwards 
I fought for the South, and that’s why I’m 
still working, young ladies, for I get no pen¬ 
sion. But I followed my conscience, and if 
you do that, you’ll never regret it, no matter 
what it lets you in for,” wound up Mr. Hornsby, 
who enjoyed infusing a slight tinge of moral 
instruction, however irrelevant, into his stories. 
“Remember that, Gordon, when I’m dead and 
gone and not here to tell you.” 




WHY GORDON CARVED AN ACORN 181 


“I will, Mr. Hornsby,” promised Gordon 
faithfully. 

“But oh, Mr. Hornsby,” cried Virginia with 
fervor, “I do hope you’ll never be dead and 
gone!” 

“I hope not, indeed,” confided Mr. Hornsby. 
“I’ve always enjoyed being alive!” 

“It is we who have enjoyed your story,” said 
Priscilla, rising, for she could no longer wait 
to talk over the narrative and she knew her 
comrades felt the same way. “You’ve told us 
so much we wanted to know about the Ocean 
Monarch 

“ I’ve known all about it for a long time,” 
cried Gordon boastfully, slashing at his cigar- 
box dramatically. 

“Do you mean to say, Gordon Hawthorne, 
that you’ve known all this story for a long 
time?” demanded Helena. 

“Yes, for years and years—and years,” re¬ 
plied Gordon carelessly. “Mr. Hornsby has 
told that story to me about a million times— 
haven’t you, Mr. Hornsby?” 



CHAPTER XIII 


FELICITY S NAME 



EAVING Gordon to his triumphs, the girls 


took a grateful leave of gallant old 


Mm mJ Mr. Hornsby, who urged them all to 
come again any time they wanted a good story, 
and hurried out of the little side yard toward 
Willett Parkway. 

“At last!” cried Helena, when they were out 
of earshot. “Finally we’ve found out why Fe¬ 
licity has that clipper-card!” 

“ ‘Garet Hornsby, cabin-boy’ gave it to her 
father, Thomas”—began Rose, and stopped 
short. 

“J err old,” finished Aline solemnly. 

“It can’t be possible!” gasped Priscilla. 
‘ 1 Felicity—J err old ? Why, it’s not believable! ’ ’ 

“But suppose it should be true,” cried Vir¬ 
ginia, eager not to be balked by anything so 
foolish as the impossible, “what relation would 
Felicity be, Aline, to Mrs. Jerrold?” 

“None whatever, thank goodness! But she 
would be Mr. Jerrold’s second cousin.” 

“How do you know?” 


182 


FELICITY’S NAME 


183 


“Oh, I found out long ago what relation Win- 
throp Jerrold of California was to Mr. G. With- 
erbee. He was his uncle. Their fathers were 
brothers, but Winthrop was about ten years 
the elder. So ‘ Thomas Hull, ’ if he were Win¬ 
throp’s son, would have been Mr. G. Witherbee 
Jerrold’s cousin, and Felicity would be his 
second cousin.’ 9 

“I think it’s well to say ‘would be,’ 99 re¬ 
marked Joyce with an air of dissatisfaction. 

“Joyce, what more do you want?” cried 
Muriel rebukingly. “We’ve found the very 
person who gave Felicity’s father her clipper- 
card, and the rescue of the mother and baby 
is officially recorded in the log of the Ocean 
Monarch” 

“I’m perfectly willing to believe Felicity’s 
father was the baby Mr. Hornsby helped save 
and Bos’n Hull adopted, but don’t you see, 
there’s still one link missing in our proof,” 
declared Joyce earnestly. “We haven’t any 
certain knowledge that the young woman who 
was that child’s mother was Anne Farnham 
Jerrold.” 

“What about the date, 1853, which was the 
date of Anne’s death at sea?” suggested Doro¬ 
thy. 

“And the age of the child?” added Virginia. 

“You’ve forgotten about the silhouette of 
Anne as the Rose Queen, too, which looks so 
much like Felicity,” pointed out Helena. 




184 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“No, I haven’t forgotten any of those 
things,” denied Joyce, “and really, girls, I 
believe myself that all those pieces of evidence 
do point to the fact that Anne was Felicity’s 
grandmother. I’m only saying that other 
people might want more certain proof than we 
have yet. ’ ’ 

“You’re always doubting everything, 
Joyce,” complained Virginia, displeased at 
having cold water even sprinkled on her hopes, 
and not quite fair to her matter-of-fact friend. 
But Aline, whose hopes were even higher, shook 
her head. 

“No, Jinny, I’m glad Joyce thought of the 
one thing we still need to lmow. We’d better 
admit what we don’t know ourselves, than to 
have other people point it out to us. But what 
do you all think, girls: don’t you think I might 
tell Felicity what we know now? She certainly 
ought to lmow how her father got that card 
she has framed, and she has a right to know all 
about Mr. Hornsby. She might like to see him. ’ ’ 

“Indeed, I think you ought to tell her, 
Aline,” agreed Priscilla, and the other girls all 
concurred. “We’ve been fortunate enough to 
find out all we want to know except one fact— 
whether ‘Thomas Hull’s’ mother actually was 
Anne Farnham—and certainly we ought to be 
able to wait a little longer for that. It’s just 
got to turn up!” 

“I think so too,” cried Evelyn optimistically. 




FELICITY’S NAME 


185 


“And, Aline, you can tell Felicity not only how 
she has the card, but why it was preserved and 
who made the framed ’ 

“Why, Evelyn! I don’t know that, I’m sure. 
Why? And who!” 

“Who? Bos’n Hull, of course. Who else 
would do the carving, and get the whales ’ teeth 
for ornaments? And why? Because Mrs. 
Bos’n kept the picture for a toy for the baby, 
not only because it was pretty, hut because it 
was a sort of curiosity, too. And it was the 
baby who tore off the ship’s name.” 

“A bull’s eye again, Evelyn! Well, then, let’s 
tell Felicity! To-morrow, Helena, we must 
do it. ’ ’ 

“It will be a sort of shock to Felicity,” said 
Priscilla. “You must do it carefully.” 

So the exact moment was chosen when Fe¬ 
licity should hear the longed-for news: it should 
be the first one to-morrow when Mrs. Jerrold 
was fairly out of the Golden Samovar. The 
wording of Aline’s opening sentence was de¬ 
bated, and the following was pronounced suf¬ 
ficiently interesting but not over-alarming: 
“Felicity, would you like to hear something 
very delightful and curious about your picture 
in the carved frame?” Then from this start¬ 
ing-point the whole story was rehearsed in a 
beautiful logical order until Aline declared her¬ 
self letter perfect. 

“It’ll be time in just a second!” whispered 




186 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


Helena, very early the following afternoon, 
coming out of the little office where she had 
been helping Felicity sort the next day’s menu 
cards. “Mrs. Jerrold’s leaving already—her 
husband’s downstairs with the car and they’re 
going uptown together. ’ ’ 

Aline received this news with a rapturous 
expression and went on setting a table, and 
Helena discreetly started to fold napkins as 
Mrs. Jerrold appeared, hatted and gloved. See¬ 
ing them both well occupied, it was perhaps a 
little difficult to think of some corrective sug¬ 
gestion, but Mrs. Jerrold managed to. 

“Helena,” she said impressively, “don’t 
wear that wooden chain again here. It rattles. 
It will annoy customers.” 

Helena replied: “Very well, Mrs. Jerrold,” 
so Mrs. Jerrold nearly passed on downstairs, 
and the Linger-Nots’ beautiful, tactful plan for 
breaking the news was almost carried out— 
but not quite. Helena reached out across the 
table for another napkin to fold, and the fa¬ 
mous Green Acorn of the great Acorn Line 
banged on the table defiantly. Mrs. Jerrold 
half-turned, and not unnaturally glared at this 
unfortunate repetition of an offense, while at 
that same instant Felicity, coming out of the 
office where she could not have possibly over¬ 
heard the preceding remarks, saw the acorn 
and stopped short staring at it. The next in¬ 
stant Mrs. Jerrold was doing the same thing, 




FELICITY’S NAME 


187 


and then a swift gleam in her eye showed that 
she remembered Aline’s reference to the acorn 
which had identified Felicity’s and Muriel’s 
clipper-cards. Felicity, sensing by the con¬ 
fusion on Aline’s and Helena’s faces that some¬ 
thing was wrong, quickly recovered herself and 
proceeded toward the kitchen, but Mrs. Jerrold 
stopped her sharply. 

“Is this acorn the symbol of a secret socie¬ 
ty?” she inquired acidly. “Not that your doings 
are of any importance to me, but you know my 
rule: Business in business hours. Aline, are you 
now proposing to break that rule after my 
warning the other day? I am sorry to see you 
add defiance to obstinacy. Felicity, I fear you 
will lose my good opinion if you heed these two 
silly little girls, one of whom even wears that 
meaningless emblem. Helena, I am astonished 
at you. You are quite lacking in good taste 
after all.” 

This broadside stunned even the ready Felic¬ 
ity, who had not the slightest idea of its mean¬ 
ing. It affronted Helena, partly because the 
acorn was Gordon’s present, partly because she 
considered her taste quite equal to Mrs. Jer¬ 
rold ’s. But on Aline it had an effect which no 
one could have forseen and no power could have 
stopped. She was charged with a great mes¬ 
sage, and the broadside set off the magazine. 

“Oh, no, Mrs. Jerrold,” she cried with an 
earnestness which would take no denial, “I’m 




188 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


not defiant—Pm not obstinate! You won’t 
think so either, when I tell you something / 9 
She turned her sweet brown eyes, full of affec¬ 
tion, on Felicity, who for once seemed power¬ 
less to act in any way. “Felicity, that acorn is 
like the one on your card. Helena wore it here 
to-day on purpose to show it to you. Gordon 
carved it, as well as the chain you’ve seen be¬ 
fore. It brought us information you’ll like to 
hear. Dear Felicity, the old sailor who taught 
Gordon to carve it, knew your father. He told 
us all about him yesterday! ’ 9 

“What!” gasped Felicity, turning perfectly 
white and shaking from head to foot. Mrs. 
Jerrold’s Park Avenue jaw dropped to its full¬ 
est extent. For one instant Helena trembled, 
and then she heaved a long sigh of relief, for 
she saw that this time Aline’s earnest direct 
truthfulness was going to succeed where all 
diplomacy must have failed! 

“Now I will tell you everything , 99 announced 
Aline calmly, and was about to carry out her 
decision without any opposition whatever when 
in the doorway appeared a stately and immacu¬ 
late gentleman of fifty who looked command- 
ingly around the room. It was Mr. Jerrold, 
seeking the cause of his wife’s delay in joining 
him. The four tense ladies before him fixed 
his attention. 

“My dear!” remarked Mr. Jerrold, and upon 
his wife’s now purple countenance appeared 




FELICITY’S NAME 


189 


at once the expression of awe and devotion with 
which rumor said she invariably regarded 
every Jerrold. 

“I—I shall be ready at once, Witherbee,” 
she stammered, hesitating for probably the first 
time in her life. And then Felicity, whom Mr. 
Jerrold had greeted with a cordial bow, cried 
out in a tone that showed she knew him to be a 
good friend: 

“Oh, Mr. Jerrold, what do you think has 
happened! These dear girls have discovered 
someone who really knew my father! Isn’t that 
perfectly wonderful! ’ ’ 

“I always hoped that would happen, Miss 
Hull,” returned the magnificent Mr. Jerrold in 
the kindest tone. “What is the story?” 

“This,” announced Aline before anyone else 
could speak. No boastfulness was in her voice, 
she was simply the oracle. “In a little church 
near my home, the sexton, Mr. Hornsby, is an 
old man who was a sailor in the days of the 
California clipper-ships. In 1853 he was a 
cabin-boy aboard the ship in that picture of 
your father’s, Felicity. We have identified that 
ship—I’ll tell you how presently, and how we 
came to find out about Mr. Hornsby. The ship 
is the Ocean Monarch 

“What! The famous old Ocean Monarch?” 
said Mr. Jerrold, his interest aroused. 

“In 1853,” proceeded Aline unswervingly, 
“your father, Felicity, was about two years 




190 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


old. In that year, in the old log of the Ocean 
Monarch, which Helena’s nncle, Mr. Marsden, 
got ns permission to look at in Mr. ‘Lockout’ 
Murray’s library”—Aline evidently took 
‘ Lockout’ to be a given name, much to Mr. 
Jerrold’s delight—“it is recorded that a boat’s 
crew from the ship saved a little boy two years 
old, and his mother, from the wreck of an un¬ 
known clipper off Cape Horn. Mr. Hornsby 
himself is named among the rescue crew. The 
mother died from exposure without recovering 
consciousness. The baby was adopted—by the 
ship’s boatswain, whose name was Hull. And 
your card, Felicity, was a colored advertise¬ 
ment of the ship—a clipper-card—which Cabin- 
boy Hornsby gave to your father to amuse him. 
Mr. Hornsby remembers the whole thing 
plainly, for it was he who first saw the mother 
overboard and gave the alarm.” 

“Oh, I must see him,” cried Felicity, happy 
but half-distracted by such a sudden flood of 
information. “Do you think he knows anything 
more, for instance, what my father’s name 
really was f For it evidently wasn’t Hull. ’ ’ 

“No, but I think I know,” replied Aline 
boldly. 

‘ 1 Tell me!” ordered Felicity. 

“When we went to Fair Valley at Easter, 
to the pageant, we saw on the wall of the fam¬ 
ous old academy there a silhouette of a girl 
named Anne Farnham-” 




FELICITY’S NAME 


191 


“Anne Farnham!” echoed Mr. Jerrold in 
astonishment. 

—“and Helena and I both recognized the 
likeness in the shape of her head to yours, 
Felicity. And Anne Farnham and her baby, 
they told us there, were always thought to have 
been lost in the wreck of a westbound Cali¬ 
fornia clipper-ship in 1853.” Aline paused, 
and looked piercingly at Mr. Jerrold in abso¬ 
lute calm self-possession. 

“Anne Farnham,” said Mr. Jerrold in a 
hushed tone, “married my uncle Winthrop Jer¬ 
rold of Fair Valley, California.” 

The hush communicated itself to everyone 
present. Felicity had sat down, overwhelmed 
by Aline’s story. Aline stood motionless, tri¬ 
umphant, her eyes shining with happiness. 
Helena was the only person unkind enough, or 
perhaps human enough, to steal one tiny glance 
at Mrs. Jerrold. Yes, Mrs. Jerrold was still 
there, though everyone had entirely forgotten 
her presence. Her flush had died away, she 
looked decidedly upset, and her muteness was 
alarmingly unnatural. Mr. Jerrold made the 
next move. 

“This is a most remarkable story,” he said 
gravely, “and the young lady has told it con¬ 
vincingly. It may have great significance for 
you, Miss Hull, and I am sure I hope so, but 
of course there are details which must be in¬ 
vestigated, as, for instance-” 




192 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“Oh, surely, Mr. Jerrold,” interrupted Fe¬ 
licity, “if Aline Gaines says this is true, it is! 
Do let me go and see this old Mr. Hornsby right 
away!” 

“Very well, that’s an excellent idea,” agreed 
Mr. Jerrold soothingly, for Felicity was grow¬ 
ing more nervous every minute, “that part of 
the story he tells seems certain, and you’d see 
him sooner or later.” He turned to his wife. 
“My dear, shall we take Miss Hull up with 
us in the car to see this old sexton?” 

“Certainly, Witherbee,” acquiesced the sub¬ 
missive Mrs. Jerrold. “Directly, if you say so. 
Whereabouts is this church you speak of, 
Aline?” 

“Suppose we take these two young ladies 
also, if they live so near by, and they can show 
it to us,” suggested Mr. Jerrold, bent on mak¬ 
ing everybody comfortable after such a succes¬ 
sion of shocks, as kindly practical as he was 
magnificent. 

“Very well,” agreed Mrs. Jerrold again. 
Then with a last effort she reasserted herself. 
“Of course we must remember that nothing— 
that is, nothing important—has been proved 
about this story, ’ ’ she remarked warningly, fir¬ 
ing the last shot in her locker. Of course, to 
Mrs. Jerrold, the only important thing about 
the story would be the question as to whether 
Felicity was Anne Farnham Jerrold’s grand¬ 
daughter. Everybody knew that, yet nobody, 




FELICITY’S NAME 


193 


for some strange reason, seemed to have heard 
her remark. 

Almost the next moment they were all speed¬ 
ing up Broad Street in the Jerrold car, eager 
to reach their destination in the briefest pos¬ 
sible time. In the circumstances, it was par¬ 
ticularly maddening that the car should be 
halted almost instantly at Wall Street by a 
hold-up in the traffic. But, while the three girls 
sat chafing at the delay, a boyish figure with 
a large sketch-book under one arm wriggled 
across Broad Street through the traffic jam, 
and with a beaming salutation took up a posi¬ 
tion on the curbstone beside the car. 

“Why, it’s that nice young Mr. Burchard,” 
murmured Mrs. Jerrold, appropriating the 
smile for herself with some relief at finding 
anything young that was nice. She leaned for¬ 
ward. “Do tell Mr. Wakefield I’ve been en¬ 
joying his sample of tea so much, will you, 
please?” 

“I will, thank you. He’ll be delighted to 
hear it,” responded Andrew suavely. Felicity 
stared at him as if she thought the whole world 
was going crazy that afternoon, and Helena, 
who was sitting next her on the outside of the 
seat, pinched her wamingly, as Mrs. Jerrold 
sank back again. 

“Presently,” she whispered, and to Andrew 
she murmured: “Something new—something 




194 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


wonderful has happened, thanks to your advice 
about the ship’s log. You ’ll hear! ’ ’ 

“I knew that when I saw you all bound off 
together/’ returned Andrew softly, “but it’s 
thanks to your own pluck. Yes, we’ll hear a 
lot more about it!” 

He waved his hat gayly and pursued his way 
officeward down the sunny hill as the car started 
northward once more, a strong, brave, friendly 
figure. 

As fast as the speed regulations permitted, 
the big car boomed along toward Willett Park¬ 
way, and the ride lasted just long enough for 
Aline and Helena to answer the many questions 
Mr. Jerrold put to them about all the details 
of their adventures with the clipper-cards, their 
experiences at Fair Valley, their piecing to¬ 
gether of the fragmentary scraps of evidence 
which had seemed to bear on Felicity’s history. 
Felicity for the most part was silent, overcome 
by her feelings. Indeed, her only remark came 
at the end of Aline’s recital of how all the nine 
girls had worked together in trying to clear 
up the long mystery of seventy years. Then 
she said, in a husky voice: “To think that so 
many people could ever have cared!” 

The car swung off Willett Parkway and down 
the side street toward the little church. The 
side yard where Mr. Hornsby had sat the other 
afternoon was empty, but the door of the sex¬ 
ton’s office was open, and a shovel and trowel 




FELICITY'S NAME 


195 


lying on the grass-plot showed that he was not 
far off. The five visitors climbed ont of the 
car, and advanced up the walk, Aline leading, 
with Felicity beside her. 

Their ringing steps were evidently heard in 
the office, for Mr. Hornsby now appeared, car¬ 
rying one of the plants from the club-rooms 
which he was about to set outdoors for the sum¬ 
mer. His eye fell on Felicity, as she advanced, 
tall, pale and straight, the sunlight falling on 
the bright tawny hair from which her small 
hat turned back sharply. With a crash, the 
flower-pot fell on the walk, as sixty-seven years 
before a tray had fallen from the same hands 
to the deck of the Ocean Monarch , and Mr. 
Hornsby, a strange look of gallant youth flash¬ 
ing for one second across his handsome old 
face, sprang forward as though impelled by 
some supernatural strength and shouted in a 
strong, clear voice: 

‘ 4 Captain, it's a woman!” 




CHAPTER XIV 


AMERICAN BEAUTIES 

I T was Commencement Day at Clifton, and 
the school gymnasium was a vivid and 
colorful scene. Flags draped the walls, the 
running-track was looped with green garlands, 
masses of flowers were heaped high around the 
edge of the platform whereon a few moments 
before dignitaries had been delivering speeches 
and graduates courtesying their thanks for 
their diplomas. Now all the happy girls in 
white, with their big bouquets, were scattered 
on the crowded floor among their friends, re¬ 
ceiving congratulations. 

The happiest person present, Helena felt 
sure, was herself. Her hand now held the long- 
coveted, ribbon-tied parchment as she stood, 
brilliantly pretty in her dainty lace frock, with 
a sheaf of American beauties on her arm, by 
the great window overlooking the recreation- 
ground where she would play no more. She 
was the first of the nine friends to leave school, 
and while all the other girls, who were fonder 


AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


197 


of study, were glad that some years of school- 
life remained for them, they rejoiced in 
Helena’s wished-for success. 

They were all there, for Aline, Priscilla, 
Rose, Evelyn, and Dorothy, who were now 
grouped around Helena, had been ushers at the 
exercises, and were charmingly decorated with 
official-looking green sashes. The younger trio 
were across the room chatting with Helena’s 
mother and Gordon. And at the other end of 
the gymnasium Felicity Hull could be seen, 
talking to Miss Langdon. 

“How well your mother looks now, Helena,” 
exclaimed Rose. “Weren’t you astonished 
when she just walked into the house last 
night?” 

“I was overcome! It was her surprise to 
me, to get here for Commencement. And oh, 
I never told you yet! She got her appointment 
as head of her mathematics department at the 
high school to-day.” 

“How splendid!” cried the girls, realizing 
what an increase this would mean in the slim 
Hawthorne income. 

“So I shall leave the Golden Samovar the 
first of August,” continued Helena, “and take 
a vacation, and then start right in with my mu¬ 
sic. I told Mrs. Jerrold so last week.” 

“What did she say?” asked Priscilla. 

“She said, ‘Very well, my dear. I wish you 
success.’ Think of it!” 




198 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


4 ‘Just imagine!” echoed Aline. 

“That doesn’t sound to me like such an ex¬ 
traordinary thing to say,” ventured Priscilla. 
“7 think it was just ordinarily polite.” 

“My dear Priscilla, fancy Mrs. Jerrold being 
ordinarily polite! You couldn’t, until now,” 
insisted Helena, “and yet now she is that way 
most of the time. I think Mr. Hornsby did it. ’’ 

“So do I,” agreed Aline instantly. 

“How, Helena? You never told us,” asked 
Rose in great curiosity. 

“Why, after he had recognized Felicity’s 
face, Mr. Jerrold became convinced that she 
was the granddaughter of Winthrop and Anne 
Farnham Jerrold, and said so, and explained 
the whole story to Mr. Hornsby, who was of 
course perfectly enchanted with it. He took a 
tremendous fancy to Felicity at once, partly for 
herself, of course, and partly because she was 
the daughter of little ‘Jinks,’ who, by the way, 
was really named Winthrop Jerrold, Jr. 
Finally Mrs. Jerrold couldn’t resist one little 
dig, and she said, apparently regretful: ‘What 
a pity this never came out sooner! Of course, 
we must try to make up for lost time, but how 
you must wish you could have had an expe¬ 
rience more suitable than just business life for 
a girl bearing the Jerrold name!’ Mr. Jerrold 
looked as if he were going to have apoplexy on 
the spot, and Felicity was certainly just about 
to say something sharp for the first time on 





AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


199 


record, but Mr. Hornsby said instantly in the 
smoothest tone: ‘Ain’t it nice, ma’am, that you 
and I don’t have to worry about that? I reckon 
anything a real Jerrold does is all right!’ Well, 
that finished her. She only married a Jer¬ 
rold!” 

“But listen,” interposed Dorothy, “what 
really was the matter with Mrs. Jerrold all that 
time? Why did she act so meanly to Felicity? 
Have you found out?” 

“Mother says it’s no mystery, but I should 
never have known if she hadn’t explained it to 
me,” confessed Aline. “She said that evi¬ 
dently Mrs. Jerrold felt herself to be inferior 
in character to Felicity in spite of her great 
social superiority, and didn’t like it, and so 
took it out in being disagreeable! ’ ’ 

“Nobody must have anything she hasn’t!” 
said Rose. “But Mr. Jerrold seems nice.” 

“Perfectly lovely!” cried Helena with en¬ 
thusiasm, for Mr. Jerrold’s splendor appealed 
deeply to her. “You know what he’s done for 
Felicity—sent her up for a visit to Fair Val¬ 
ley, where Miss Langdon got the Misses Row¬ 
land to entertain her, and traced the Hulls in 
Boston, and actually found one of them, the 
youngest brother, who remembered all about 
Felicity’s father—oh, he’s just as nice as if his 
name were Smith! I’m so glad they say cop¬ 
per is improving! ’ ’ 

“What about Felicity’s father?” inquired 




200 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


Dorothy, giggling at Helena’s remarkable 
standard for niceness. 

“He was brought up, of course, with the six 
Hull children,” replied Aline, “but he was a 
good deal younger than even the youngest of 
them, so he was the last left at home. Then, 
after Bos hi Hull died, and the older children 
moved away, he affectionately supported Mrs. 
Hull—the first Felicity, you know—whom he 
loved so much because she had done so much 
for him. She lived to be very old, and he was 
poor and couldn’t afford to marry until after 
her death. He was engaged to Felicity’s 
mother ten years.” 

“Who was she? And what did Felicity’s 
father do?” asked several voices simulta¬ 
neously. 

“She belonged to a nice family in Boston— 
Helena, they were really named Smith! She 
taught music. And just think, for once I 
guessed right: Bos’n Hull got ‘Thomas’ work 
in the Boston navy-yard when he was a boy, 
and he worked on ships in different navy-yards 
all his life.” 

“Yes, you were right just once, Aline,” ad¬ 
mitted Dorothy kindly, and might have said 
more, when a sudden summons came for the 
ushers to pass the ice-cream. Helena was not 
left alone, however, for at that moment Fe¬ 
licity, charming in a pale gray frock and wide 





AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


201 


black hat with a single large pink rose, crossed 
the floor to the window. 

“Helena, I can’t tell you how much I’ve en¬ 
joyed coming to-day, and meeting all the girls , 19 
she said, “or how grateful I am to every one 
of you.” 

“You mustn’t say a single word,” declared 
Helena. 

“Yes, I must,” contradicted Felicity, “for 
otherwise you would say: ‘Was there ever such 
an ungrateful wretch as that Felicity Hull!’ ” 

“But—you’re not—” Helena hesitated. 

“Not Felicity Hull! Yes, my dear, that’s 
just who I am. I shall not take the name of 
Jerrold.” 

Helena looked her astonishment. 

“I have just made the decision, and I wanted 
to tell you that and one or two other things 
first, before the others know, because you are 
my hostess,” said Felicity with a graciousness 
that enchanted Helena. “Mr. Jerrold sug¬ 
gested at once that I should take the family 
name, but I told him I had decided not to. You 
see, I’m now definitely established as a member 
of a certain family. That’s all I care about. 
The name my father bore for over fifty years, 
the name of a noble American seaman who gave 
a little castaway everything he had, is good 
enough for me. I made my own way under the 
name of Hull, and I shall keep it.” 

“What did Mr. Jerrold say?” gasped Hele- 




202 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


na, her amazement, however, rapidly turning to 
respect. 

“He said: ‘Boshi Hull did a splendid job, but 
your guardians finished it!’ ” 

Of course Felicity had to make her own 
choice, thought Helena, and probably she was 
right. Yet the thought of the famous name 
renounced made her give a tiny sigh, which 
Felicity heard. She smiled. 

“Why, my dear Helena, I have my profes¬ 
sion, my reputation, my home. Now I have 
position, too. Isn’t that enough to be happy 
with?” 

“Yes, Felicity,” admitted Helena, and, happy 
as she was herself, she saw now that she wasn’t 
quite the happiest person present. 

“And here’s a secret, though it won’t be one 
long,” continued Felicity. “When I come of 
age, in three months, I am going to be made a 
partner in the Golden Samovar. The Jerrolds 
insisted on doing this for me, but I’ll see that 
they never regret it. ’ ’ 

“Felicity, how lovely! It’s just what you 
like, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. And, Helena, it’s just where I be¬ 
long, right down near Wall Street! Do you 
remember what you said was printed on that 
duplicate clipper-card of Muriel’s?” 

“None of us will likely forget that!” smiled 
Helena. “It’s just burned into our minds, and 
Muriel says she hopes no one will ever tell her 




AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


203 


to stop saving up ‘ trash ’ again, and Roger 
Sutherland says the triumphs of science are 
invincible! But what part of the notice about 
the Ocean Monarch do you mean, Felicity ?” 

“The sentence, ‘Now loading at Pier 19, East 
River/ That old Pier 19 East River, where 
my father made port in Bos’n HulPs arms, is 
the same pier, Helena, at South and Wall 
Streets, that I’ve watched pretty nearly all my 
life from across the river, as I once told Aline. 
Isn’t it strange, when I always used to think I 
didn’t belong anywhere, I really had such an 
interesting connection right where I was?” 

“How do you know about the pier?” 

“Andrew Burchard found it out and told me. 
And that makes me remember, Helena, that 
I’ve a message for you from Andrew. He sent 
it because he didn’t have time to see you before 
he sailed.” 

“Sailed?” cried Helena, rather startled. 

“Yes, he sailed on Tuesday, with a party of 
students going with one of their professors to 
take a summer course in poster-design in Paris. 
His grandfather was satisfied with him, and 
told him to get ready and go. He didn’t even 
have time to get a new coat, he said, Helena— 
he just grabbed the old tan one and his passport 
and boarded the ship one minute before they 
pulled up the gangplank!” 

“Oh!” said Helena. 

“He’ll be back in the fall,” added Felicity, 




204 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


“right in his old place. Mr. Wakefield was 
glad for him to go, because he’ll be much more 
valuable after he has had the extra study.” 

“Yes,” said Helena, feeling relieved again. 

“But here’s the message, Helena: First, con¬ 
gratulations for to-day, best wishes and con¬ 
fident hopes for your future career! Second, 
would you write out for him the words of that 
‘Rainbow Song’ he heard you singing once, if 
it isn’t awfully troublesome? He was just a 
shade upset when he left, and I think he won¬ 
dered if he wasn’t going to be homesick for a 
few minutes, because the whole adventure was 
so new to him. He’s very young, and you know 
how upsetting it is to start out doing some¬ 
thing perfectly new to you.” 

“Indeed I do,” sighed Helena. “Certainly, 
Felicity, I ’ll write out the words, and give them 
to you to forward.” 

“We’ll miss Andrew, but he’ll be back. And 
oh, there’s a third part of the message!” 
smiled Felicity. “Andrew said he’d heard 
Paris had quite a reputation, but he would al¬ 
ways prefer South Street himself! I give it 
as he said it, Helena. I haven’t the faintest 
idea what he means. I think myself that South 
Street is a dingy, messy place.” 

“I don’t,” began Helena rather indignantly, 
but Felicity never heard what Helena thought 
of it, for at that moment Helena was called on 
to sing. 




AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


205 


It was what she loved to do, and with per¬ 
fect, modest self-possession she moved smil¬ 
ingly toward the piano amid applause. Laying 
her American Beauties down, she whispered 
one sentence to the pianist, and the next mo¬ 
ment her pure, high, silver voice rippled into 
the “Rainbow Song”: 

“The path triumphal of the rainbow bright 
How often have you seen within the sky! 

How often heard that story of delight 
That at the end a pot of gold doth lie, 

That he who follows on with footsteps bold 
Shall surely find the pot and keep the gold! 

“Dear heart of mine, the promise will come true, 

If faithfully with loyal heart and mind 
Your chosen course you steadfastly pursue, 

Through sunshine and through rain, for you will 
find— 

Whatever time your story shall be told— 

Your name a shining word—your fame, pure 
gold!” 

The last note died away, loud applause re¬ 
sounded through the gay gymnasium for the 
little song so appropriate to Commencement 
Day. Yet Helena, bowing and smiling sweetly 
as she was, scarcely heard the applause at all. 
She had purposely chosen the song because it 
was appropriate and inspiring—little wonder 
that Andrew, starting forth on a new adven- 




206 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


ture, had liked it!—and she had thought Fe¬ 
licity would appreciate its meaning too, yet, as 
she had been singing the second stanza, her eye 
had rested on Alined face, and over Helena 
had rushed the knowledge that the person whom 
that song really fitted was—Aline. 

“1 shouldn't be graduating to-day if it hadn't 
been for Aline,” flashed like an electric spark 
through Helena’s mind. “Felicity would be 
‘nobody’ still, if it hadn’t been for Aline . She’s 
worked so hard, she’s got nothing whatever out 
of it for herself . No, that’s not quite right . 
Felicity said:‘If Aline Gaines says this is true, 
it is ’ Her name’s a shining word! She looks 
like — yes, she is!—the happiest person here!” 

“Come along, Helena, you can have some ice¬ 
cream now, we ’ve got all the visitors and celeb¬ 
rities contented at last!” cried Dorothy’s voice 
in her ear, and Helena perceived with a little 
start that somehow she had got hack again to 
the window with her bouquet. All the Linger- 
Nots were there, so was Felicity, so was Miss 
Langdon. Helena roused herself briskly. 

“I’m going to give you each a souvenir,” she 
announced, untying the wide red satin ribbon 
from her bouquet. “It was just lovely of you 
girls to send me these American Beauties, and 
I chose them out of all my bouquets to carry. 
Now I want each of you to have one.” 

“We thought they were the most appropriate 




AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


207 


flower for you, Helena,’’ explained Virginia, 
much mellowed by ice-cream. 

“How sweet of you! Then there’s one for 
each of the Linger-Nots, one for Miss Langdon, 
one for Felicity,” counted Helena, making the 
distribution, “and one over. Gordon will like 
it. And now I’m going to tell you right off that 
there’s someone here to whom American Beau¬ 
ties are much more appropriate than they are 
to me or anyone else, and that person is Aline 
Gaines! ’ ’ 

“Helena, what nonsense!” gasped Aline, get¬ 
ting as red as the rose she had stuck into her 
sash, but all the other girls applauded, and Miss 
Langdon smiled warmly, first at Helena, then 
at Aline. 

“Good for you, Helena!” said Felicity. 
“Yes, go ahead!” 

“Listen, everybody!” continued Helena. “I 
don’t only mean that Aline deserves credit for 
her own clever discoveries about the clipper- 
cards. We all know that, but you don’t know 
this: it was she who persuaded me to go to the 
Golden Samovar as my aunt suggested. If I 
hadn’t done that, I don’t know how we’d ever 
have got the log of the Ocean Monarch, for my 
relatives would have been so displeased, and I’m 
sure Gordon wouldn’t ever have carved my 
chain, and we’d never have heard of Mr. Horns¬ 
by’s sailing days. I wouldn’t have graduated, 
and mother mightn’t have got well neany so 




208 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


soon, and I’d have missed—oh, lots of things !” 
declared Helena. “ Aline should get the real 
credit for everything I’ve mentioned, and I 
want you to know it, because other people are 
drawing the prizes she won for them.” 

“My dear Helena,” said Miss Langdon 
kindly, “you deserve a great deal yourself for 
being open to conviction in the first place, and 
in the second, always honest. Those qualities 
are rare.” 

“Miss Langdon,” persisted Helena, though 
she received the praise with a flush of pleasure, 
“have you noticed how the New Year’s fortune 
you told for Aline has turned out exactly true 
in every way? ‘Love Bestowed—Faith Kept: 
their child is Truth.* She stuck to what her 
head and her heart told her every time, and 
finally won out.” 

“Helena, do keep still!” cried Aline. “I 
have got a real prize for myself, so there! 
Nobody but Felicity knows what it is, but now 
I’ll tell you all. You know I’m going on until 
fall at the Golden Samovar? Well, some day, 
when I’ve graduated—yes, Jinny, in just about 
ten years!—and know all about how to feed a 
family of ten on two dollars a week, I’m going 
into business with Felicity! ’ ’ 

“That will make both our fortunes, won’t 
it?” laughed Felicity. “What’s all this about 
New Year’s prophecies?” 

So the girls told her about New Year’s Eve, 




AMERICAN BEAUTIES 


209 


and opinion was unanimous that Miss Langdon 
possessed infallible prophetic sense. How, in¬ 
deed, could the Linger-Nots ever have won suc¬ 
cess on their quest, first for “gold” for the 
trip to Fair Valley, then for the golden prize 
of Felicity's identity, had it not been for all 
Evelyn's sharp wits and Priscilla's happy tact 
and Dorothy's wise figuring and Rose's knowl¬ 
edge of antiques, to say nothing of the insep¬ 
arable unity of Virginia and Joyce and Muriel, 
whose very worst “breaks” could “turn out 
for the best?” 

“And Helena's fortune's true, too, and I 
know now what it means,” cried Virginia. 
“You know, it said: 

‘A stately ship that fought the storm sails past— 

{Gold is the cargo hidden in her hold ) 

Bedecked with flags, she reaches port at last, 

And all who sailed her true and made her fast 
Shall share the bounty heaped beneath her mast. 

{Read me this riddle of the ship with gold !) 9 

“Here's Helena bedecked with flags, so to 
speak, and she has a golden voice that'll bring 
her gold! Didn't you mean this, Miss Lang¬ 
don?” 

“Oh, no, Jinny!” cried Helena, joining the 
outburst of laughter which Miss Langdon her¬ 
self started over this ingenious but slightly per¬ 
sonal interpretation of the riddle. “The verse 
doesn't mean that! I've often thought about it 



210 LINGER-NOTS AND GOLDEN QUEST 


since I heard it first, and now I’ve learned what 
it means. It’s something I’ve always needed 
to know.” 

4 ‘What is it?” demanded Virginia impa¬ 
tiently. 

“I think maybe the ship is your life,” an¬ 
swered Helena, slowly, “and the gold cargo 
what you’re making out of it.” 

“Is that true, Miss Langdon?” inquired Vir¬ 
ginia searchingly. 

“I’m not going to contradict anybody to¬ 
day!” smiled Miss Langdon. 

“But Helena hasn’t finished reading the 
riddle,” said Aline. 

“You finish, then,” urged Helena. “You’re 
an authority in solving mysteries!” 

“Well, I think the ‘bounty’ to be shared by 
us all,” interpreted Aline with a happy smile, 
“is our golden future!” 


THE END 




I 





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